


Warm Enough for You Outside, Baby?

by baeconandeggs, noonaofdarkness



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Sugar Daddy, Drunk Sex, M/M, Rimming, vague sugar daddy relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-11-07 01:51:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 44,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11048811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baeconandeggs/pseuds/baeconandeggs, https://archiveofourown.org/users/noonaofdarkness/pseuds/noonaofdarkness
Summary: Baekhyun is a collector, and well, Chanyeol is a piece of art.





	1. Offer and Acceptance

**Author's Note:**

> Author: noonaofdarkness  
> Prompt#: 138  
> Title: Warm Enough for You Outside, Baby?  
> Word Count: 45k  
> Side Pairing(s): Jongdae/Joonmyun, Sehun/Yixing, Past! Baekhyun/Sehun, Past! Chanyeol/Kyungsoo.  
> Rating: NC 17  
> Warning(s):Age Gap, Drunk Sex, Rimming, Vague Sugar Daddy relationship.  
> Disclaimer: The celebrities' names/images are merely borrowed and do not represent who the celebrities are in real life. No offense is intended towards them, their families or friends. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this fictional work. No copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> Author's Note: Huge thank you to the mods for being so understanding and patient with me. You're true saints. Thanks to D for proof-reading, and A for holding my hand and making me finish this thing. It wouldn't have happened without all your cheerleading, suggestions, and patience. Finally, apologies to the prompter because I'm sure this isn't at all what you expected -- the characters ran away with me. I did my best to limit the usage of Korean terms, but there are a few things I chose not to translate. Explanations are found in the final notes. Title taken from SZA's "Drew Barrymore."

The 3 Line is expectedly packed for six o’ clock on a Thursday evening.  
  
A woman presses uncomfortably close into Baekhyun’s side in the over-warm car, but his mind is too preoccupied to really pay her much attention. He can’t be worried about commuters with no understanding of personal space when he has less than two weeks to find a replacement for Seulgi as the special interest reporter.  
  
As long as Baekhyun’s been in charge of the segment, Kang Seulgi has been the face of it. Nearly two years together, and they’ve built the segment from a semi monthly five minute blip into a weekly prime-time feature of the nightly news hour. It’d been Baekhyun who picked her out of the sea of pretty, hopeful novice reporters; and it’s been Baekhyun who has guided her through the industry for the past two years. She doesn’t exclusively owe him her career — she’s smart, talented, a _natural_ — but the lack of loyalty after all of these years together still pinches him in the gut. It feels like a sudden betrayal.  
  
Maybe he should have seen the better offer coming from KBS, once her face became known in thousands of Korean households. Eventually every protégé moves on to bigger and better things; and even if the special interest segment is popular, it’s hardly the kind of hard-hitting investigative journalism every young reporter strives for.  
  
Her resignation couldn’t have come at a worse time, though. Less than a week out from the seasonal segments planning meeting where he — as the producer — has to pitch the next batch of segments to the higher ups. How is he supposed to sell a story if he doesn’t have a face in mind to actually conduct the interviews?  
  
The train doors open at City Hall, and there’s only a small moment of personal space before a new wave of commuters crowd onto the train, filling every gap left behind from those who exited. Baekhyun’s pushed into the corner by the far door, the cool metal of the hand railing pushing into his hip bone.  
  
_Only three more stops_.  
  
He doesn’t like the train. He has a car and he makes good use of it. But if he’s going out with Joonmyun and Jongdae tonight, it’s a pretty safe to assume he won’t be in any condition to drive home by the time they wrap up. After the day he’s had, that’s exactly what he needs.  
  
A businessman talks too loudly into his cell phone right next to Baekhyun’s ear, and Baekhyun tries to distract himself by running through his mental rolodex of young reporters with the potential to replace Seulgi.  
  
Park Sooyoung, maybe? She still fumbles over her words, and fidgets when she talks. There’s a good chance those qualities could endear viewers to her, though. Plus, She has a great smile.  
  
Bae Joohyun is another option, but she’s not as warm — as friendly — as Seulgi has made herself known for being. He needs someone who viewers can fall in love with as much as the people being interviewed will. They can’t just be a pretty face who asks questions robotically and looks half interested in the plight of the everyday.  
  
The train finally arrives at Jongno 3-ga. Baekhyun manages to squeeze himself out of the car just before the doors begin to close. After forty minutes on cramped trains, he welcomes the early October chill as he climbs the steps of exit five. He takes in the familiar hum of traffic, and the clanking of metal and plastic that comes from the street vendors setting up their _pochas_ for the evening rush.  
  
Baekhyun knows this neighborhood like the back of his hand: the small guitar shop across the street, the row of red tents that line the two-lane road, taking up most of the space on the sidewalk, some half in the road.  
  
There’s no traffic signal to wait for as he crosses the road towards the guitar shop. He takes the routine right turn down the back alley where middle aged men loiter in front of the love motels with their cigarettes.  
  
The secret _hanok_ village of Ikseon-dong sprawls out before him. Unlike the neighborhood that encapsulates Ikseon-dong, the _hanok_ don’t rise above a single story, laid out in organized but cramped rows. Even after all this time, he’s impressed with how quickly Seoul can transform from block to block. All it takes is a small turn off the main road, and the marble of modern Seoul is replaced with the wood and stone of _hanok_.  
  
It’s Seoul’s best kept secret, Baekhyun believes. That’s changing though.  
  
_Ikseon-dong: In an old tree grows a new flower_ had been Seulgi’s first piece for the network. It had been the report than convinced the higher ups what Baekhyun had been trying to tell them for months: that special interest segments could ignite change, and that Seulgi was meant to be in front of the camera.  
  
  
Baekhyun admires untapped potential. Watching the crumbling neighborhood regain life, watching Seulgi thrive in front of the camera, has made the neighborhood even more special to Baekhyun.  
  
It helps that his two closest friends happen run a coffee shop slash gallery space in the area, where his drinks and pastries are always complimentary.  
  
The semi-open courtyard of Joonmyun’s Gomok Art Cafe always smells the same to Baekhyun; familiar with the scents of coffee and biscuits complimented by the indescribable scent of the aged wood that frames the open area leading to the main counter.  
  
Baekhyun’s seen a lot of _hanok_ in Ikseon-dong be renovated. Maybe he’s a little biased, but he thinks Joonmyun did a fantastic job with Gomok. He’s managed to keep the traditional structure in it’s entirety, down to the aged newspapers and _hanji_ that had patched the wooden walls decades ago. The glass ceiling has been installed as a way to keep the courtyard open, but accessible year round.  
  
Against all the tradition, stand floor level-tables scattered around the space, a small coffee counter, and Jongdae — who has his back turned behind the coffee counter, and misses Baekhyun’s approach. He’s busy tinkering with his latest DIY project — flower arrangement or gilded picture frames — because Jongdae always has to be busy, even when business is slow.  
  
There’s only a couple of customers in the back, and it’s clear Jongdae’s left them to Jinki in favor of indulging his creative flares. After all, Jongdae runs the cafe more to socialize and re-decorate than to actually prepare coffee and pastries. Thankfully, Joonmyun is well aware of Jongdae’s interests, and their budget allows for a couple extra employees to actually _run_ the place.  
  
Baekhyun taps the bell on the counter with an impatient ping, knowing the shrill sound drives Jongdae crazy. He’s rewarded with a surprised jump of Jongdae’s shoulder and the annoyed twitch of Jongdae’s upper lip as he turns with a practiced smile to greet the new customer. Once he realizes said customer is just Baekhyun, the forced smile instantly falls into an annoyed roll of his eyes.  
  
Baekhyun leans against the counter with a smug grin while Jongdae sets down the polishing rag on the counter and washes his hands.  
  
“I thought we were meeting at the bar?” Jongdae questions over his shoulder. “Got off work early today?”  
  
Baekhyun sighs, sinking into the counter. “Unfortunately, yes. Seulgi is moving to KBS, so I’m left to track down a replacement… quickly. They let me go early partially because they felt sorry for me, and partially as motivation to hit the ground running tomorrow.”  
  
Jongdae’s lips purse in an empathetic pout before he makes his way towards Baekhyun.  
  
“Finding talent is your specialty, though,” Jongdae reassures. “I’m sure it won’t take you long to find some young hopeful with a nice voice and pretty face.”  
  
Baekhyun inhales a laugh. That _is_ his specialty. It’s the whole reason he’s worked his way up so quickly at JTBC. He has a knack for placing young hopefuls in the right positions, and for choosing the best faces out of a sea of portfolios. But, Baekhyun doesn’t like sudden changes. Even if he expects everyone to move on eventually, he doesn’t like watching a young reporter he helped mold run off to greener pastures and leaving him in a rough patch.  
  
He doesn’t like feeling left behind.  
  
“Joonmyun should be here in a few,” Jongdae continues once Baekhyun fails to respond. “We can head out as soon as Sunyoung clocks in. You look like you could use a drink… or five.”  
  
Right. Tonight Baekhyun will be grumpy and drink entirely too much. Tomorrow he’ll start the search for a new reporter, just like he’d promised Kim Heechul he would.  
  
A new customer appears behind Baekhyun before he can whine any further into Jongdae’s counter, so he excuses himself to wander around the cafe. He takes his time to survey the space and notices the paintings that had adorned the walls last week have all been replaced with photographs.  
  
Joonmyun is not a restaurateur by trade, he’s an art collector, a gallery owner. He’d opened up Gomok more as an excuse to have a second gallery space for lesser known artists than to become a master coffee brewer. Joonmyun’s talked ad nauseum about his hesitancy to support young photographers. It’s not that he doesn’t see photography as art, he does. But he’s also seen photography all too often be a temporary hobby of young hipsters rather than a real artistic commitment. Joonmyun isn’t one to throw his support into something he doesn’t see a future in, much like Baekhyun.  
  
If Joonmyun’s chosen to hang photographs on the walls of Gomok, then they must be special.  
  
There aren’t customers in Baekhyun’s way as he moves towards the walls to get a closer look at each shot. Each photograph is a different scene of Seoul, some in color, others black and white. Each scene is one he recognizes instantly — the back roads of Hongdae, Namsaemun Market, a tiny grandmother sitting on the ground selling produce in round red tubs, the silhouette of a man smoking in a back alley.  
  
There’s something different about the photographs though, something eerily intimate about each shot; like the photographer knows each person he photographs, and they took the time to capture the small details that a busy passer-by would miss. There’s the slight frown on the grandmother’s face as she stares at the feet passing her by, ignoring her calls for them to pay attention to her produce. The smoking man’s body is bent against his cane in such a way that Baekhyun feels he’ll topple over at any moment without the cigarette to ground his mind.  
  
Whoever the photographer is, Baekhyun thinks, they have a gift for finding the humanity in the everyday stranger that’s usually blurred out to the periphery by the blasé disposition of city life.  
  
They’re beautiful shots, really: captivating and unsettling at the same time. These are the kinds of photographs he’d like to hang in his apartment to remind him of the small details of Seoul he lets pass him by because his mind is always elsewhere — on Kang Seulgi, or Heechul’s critique of his latest report.  
  
Baekhyun likes these shots, much more than the last set of watercolors he’d seen on the walls. Curiosity flares inside of him as to who the artist is. Joonmyun and Jongdae are never careless with their choice of who to give exposure to on their cafe walls, but they’ve really found something special here.  
  
He feels Joonmyun’s presence beside him and pulls his eyes from the tiny grandmother in front of him to greet his friend. Joonmyun is also admiring the photograph, clearly proud of himself. His suit is pressed perfectly as always, not a single black hair out of place on his head.  
  
“It’s been awhile since you showed photographs here,” Baekhyun turns his admiration back to the shots before him. “Who’s the artist?”  
  
Joonmyun laughs under his breath. “Someone I came across recently. A college kid at K-arts.” Joonmyun and Baekhyun are similar, always searching for new talent in youth. Though, unlike Baekhyun, Joonmyun is more focused on their art than their pretty faces. He has Jongdae for that. “You can meet him if you’d like.”  
  
“Oh?” Baekhyun’s intrigued. He’s met some of Joonmyun’s protégés before, but always in passing. Joonmyun’s never been so forward with wanting Baekhyun to meet them. Maybe he can tell how drawn Baekhyun is to the photographs, maybe he wants Baekhyun to purchase one and give the college student a confidence boost with his first real sale.  
  
“We’re having a small official debut party for this series tomorrow. Think you can swing by?”  
  
Baekhyun shrugs. “I don’t have any other plans.”  
  
Joonmyun turns to Baekhyun with a mysterious smile on his face, his left eyebrow quirked playfully. “You’d like him, I think.”  
  
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Baekhyun laughs as Joonmyun wiggles his eyebrows as lewdly as possible for someone as polished as Joonmyun is.  
  
“It means he’s hot!” Jongdae shouts from behind the counter, clearly listening in this whole time and feeling left out. “And twenty-three, and _tall_ …”  
  
Baekhyun can’t help but laugh again. Jongdae knows his tastes well, and is far more forward about helping getting Baekhyun laid than Joonmyun could ever hope to be.  
  
Sure enough, Joonmyun’s cheeks flush slightly as he rolls his eyes at Jongdae’s bluntness.  
  
“Still not sure what he’s into though,” Joonmyun shrugs. “So don’t let Jongdae get your hopes up too much.”  
  
“I’m intrigued,” Baekhyun admits. A part of him is thinking about the art, another part thinking about the young artist Jongdae’s given his seal of aesthetic approval to. It’s been awhile since he’s met someone new, anyway.  
  
“What ever happened to your last boy toy?” Jongdae bounces over from behind the counter, completely ignoring the confused stare Jinki throws him. “Sehun, was it?”  
  
“He wasn’t my boy toy.” Baekhyun corrects quickly. He rolls his eyes knowing how many times he and Jongdae have had this exact debate. And yet, the nickname persists.  
  
“Boyfriend?” Joonmyun offers teasingly, earning a weak slap to his arm.  
  
“Not that either.” Baekhyun draws a heavy breath, turning his attention away from the way Joonmyun’s arm naturally extends around Jongdae’s waist once he’s close enough; blocking out the cute way Jongdae scrunches his nose at Joonmyun in response.  
  
Sehun had been an arrangement. Not a toy, not a boyfriend: an arrangement. Exactly how Baekhyun prefers it.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
They don’t talk about work until they’re properly full and drunk, stumbling over their words with their food plates long forgotten and empty soju bottles crowding the table. Joonmyun curls ungracefully into Jongdae’s side in the quiet corner booth, his eyes already heavy with sleep. Baekhyun’s eyes follow the way Jongdae’s free hand reaches to card through Joonmyun’s hair on instinct. He’s drunk, and maybe a little envious, but he doesn’t want to think about it.  
  
Instead, he rants about JTBC. He already has enough on his plate as a producer: setting up travel arrangements, organizing interviews, production costs. He doesn’t need the burden of training someone new.  
  
Jongdae listens to all of his complaints, and responds in kind. By the end of his rant, Baekhyun’s head is resting on the table, his throat sore. Joonmyun is already asleep against Jongdae’s shoulder.  
  
He’ll definitely regret those last two beers tomorrow, but as he slumps his way into the backseat of a taxi, his lips curl into a pleased smile.  
  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
  
Drinking, hangovers and regret go hand in hand, forming the perfect trifecta of pain that Baekhyun is all too familiar with as he rolls himself out of bed at 7am. He’d allowed himself one evening of indulgence, but now it’s time to get back to work.  
  
His shirt may be tucked in a little more carelessly than usual, his hair unwashed, but it doesn’t stop him from getting right down to business, sorting through the profiles of young reporters, leaving notes in the margins, and jotting down names of the ones he likes enough to call in for a screen-test.  
  
Baekhyun runs on coffee after coffee, skipping his lunch break in favor of making up for lost time. He doesn’t remember Joonmyun’s opening party until it’s well past seven in the evening. After the wild night, he’d all but forgotten about the mysterious young photographer Joonmyun wants him to meet, about the launch party that had started at seven.  
  
He jumps out of his desk chair, and rushes to shut down his computer and clean off his desk. He’s going to be late, and there definitely won’t be time to stop by his apartment to change out of his work suit.  
  
  
  
  
It’s a modest launch, as the monthly launches at Gomok generally are. The lights are dimmed more than usual, an arrangement of finger foods set out on the main table, and wine bottles replacing the ceramic coffee cups at the bar. It’s the same set-up every month.  
  
Only this time, Gomok is filled with a much younger crowd than Baekhyun is used to seeing at such events. Maybe this should have been expected, given the age of the new artist — _Park Chanyeol_ , Baekhyun manages to read on the sign by the entrance. Some of the young patrons huddle in conversation circles in the courtyard, others are walking along the walls of the interior, taking in the shots as they sip their wine.  
  
Above the quiet hum of conversation, Baekhyun recognizes a few voices — most distinctly Jongdae’s as he tells some college student about the history of Gomok and the neighborhood. A few faces also ring familiar, the usual lot from Joonmyun’s art world that always manage to make it out for an opening. Owning a gallery in Samcheong-dong for the better part of a decade has made Joonmyun many friends; friends who trust his taste, friends who are always anxious which young talent he’ll discover next. Most importantly for this Park Chanyeol, friends with deep pockets.  
  
Baekhyun waves hello to Jongdae, and helps himself to a glass of wine. His head may still hurt a little, but one glass might take the edge off a bit.  
  
He finds himself back in front of the photo of the grandmother; the one where she’s staring at the feet passing her by. Something about the photograph sticks with Baekhyun, strikes a chord in his gut and makes him wonder exactly how many times he’s been like the feet on the edge of the frame. How many times as he wandered past a grandmother just like this one, paying her no mind, and too caught up in his own world? How many dejected frowns has he missed?  
  
“What do you think of the show?” An unfamiliar deep voice asks over his shoulder.  
  
Baekhyun turns to greet the stranger. Instantly, he’s surprised by the youthful appearance — and height — of the man, who looks much younger than his voice initially suggested. His hair is the unpleasant kind of orange that comes with unprofessional bleaching, his sports jacket slightly too short in the arms.  
  
With the genuine curiosity that lights up his eyes, he’s handsome to be sure. Even if he doesn’t know how to properly hold a wine glass, his grip too firm around the thin stem, allowing the liquid to slosh too much as he takes a tentative step closer to Baekhyun.  
  
“I’m a fan.” Baekhyun smiles formally. He takes in the way the man’s eyes flare at the statement. “I think this one is my favorite.”  
  
“Really?” The man’s smile widens in a way Baekhyun hadn’t thought possible.  
  
“How about you?” Baekhyun asks, distracting himself from staring too long at the little wrinkles that form under the man’s right eye when he smiles. “Which one is your favorite?”  
  
The man worries his lip for a moment, a series of expressions flashing so quickly across his face that Baekhyun can’t catch them all. After some struggle, he responds with a nervous, “It’d be too hard to choose.”  
  
Baekhyun can understand that. He nods his head and sips his wine again.  
  
“Are you a friend of —“  
  
“Baekhyun!” Jongdae nearly shouts from over his shoulder, turning the pairs’ attention to the newcomer. “I see you’ve met Chanyeol.” Jongdae smiles wickedly, knowingly at Baekhyun before he continues with his formal introductions. “Baekhyun, this is Park Chanyeol, the photographer. Chanyeol, this is Byun Baekhyun. He’s a…. collector.”  
  
Baekhyun nearly chokes into his wine glass at Jongdae’s improvised title.  
  
He _is_ a collector, he supposes. He likes appearances; investing in pretty things and watching them gain value in front of his eyes. He sees the value in Sooyoung’s pretty smile, and the photographs that now line the walls of Gomok. He saw the untapped potential in Oh Sehun, and Seulgi, collected them, took care of them. And now, if the way Jongdae’s eyebrows wiggle is any sign, there might also be value to find in Park Chanyeol, with his nervous smiles and orange hair.  
  
Maybe.  
  
“Nice to meet you,” Chanyeol bows, eyes never leaving Baekhyun’s even as Jongdae wraps an arm around the taller’s shoulder. “Sorry I didn’t introduce myself sooner,” he adds sheepishly as an afterthought.  
  
“Trying to sample the crowd reaction without revealing your identity? I’m onto you, Park Chanyeol,” Baekhyun teases, and it makes Chanyeol’s cheeks blush. Yes, it’s a definite maybe.  
  
“Well,” Jongdae claps his hand, his lips still curved into a teasing smirk that Chanyeol completely misses. “I’ll leave you two to get better acquainted, then...”  
  
And with that, Jongdae is off, leaving a bashful Chanyeol and curious Baekhyun in his wake.  
  
“So you’re Joonmyun’s new protégé?” Baekhyun breaks the silence.  
  
Chanyeol rolls his bottom lip between his teeth, must be a nervous habit. “I guess?”  
  
“He doesn’t let just anyone show their work here,” Baekhyun points out, trying to ease Chanyeol’s nerves a little. “And if you’ve met Jongdae, then it’s pretty safe to assume he’ll keep an eye on you for a while.”  
  
It’s cute, really, how each small compliment makes Chanyeol’s cheeks flush a little darker. He holds himself with confidence, but his face is so easy to read.  
  
“I’m just thankful for the opportunity. I didn’t actually believe he was _the_ Kim Joonmyun until he passed me his business card. I thought he was just some dude messing with me.”  
  
Baekhyun laughs at that; it’s easy to imagine. Joonmyun certainly is well known by name alone, but he’s subtle in his artistic pursuits, thoroughly considering every piece before he makes his move. He much prefers to do the pursuing, and keeps a low profile to avoid being chased by artists eager for a big break.  
  
“Sounds about right. But it’s good that you took him up on his offer. Joonmyun can teach you about the art world outside K-arts… and Jongdae can point out whose asses you need to kiss to actually make it in the industry.”  
  
It’s Chanyeol’s turn to choke on his wine as he blanches at Baekhyun’s bluntness. His ears turn red this time as his lips mouth a series of unintelligible syllables. _Cute_ , definitely cute.  
  
“I like your stuff though,” Baekhyun compliments, anxious to see how red Chanyeol’s cheeks can turn. “Do you use film or digital?”  
  
The question seems to ground Chanyeol, putting him back in familiar territory.  
  
“Both actually. I prefer film, but it’s a lot harder to work with quickly on the streets. If I mess up the aperture or something, I have no way of knowing until I’m developing the photos. By then it’s too late.” Baekhyun likes the way Chanyeol can go from nervous answers that sound like questions, to confident statements about his art. It’s clear his element is the photography itself, not so much receiving praise for his work.  
  
“Half of those terms just went over my head, but I think I get what you mean.” At that, Chanyeol smiles again.  
  
There’s something unpolished about the college student that Baekhyun likes, the way he still blushes at praise and his messy orange hair.  
  
Someone hollers for Chanyeol from the courtyard, and Chanyeol smiles apologetically.  
  
“Maybe I’ll see you around again?” Chanyeol offers hopefully, his body already turning to go back to his friends. “I mean, if you spend a lot of time here or something. I’ll be around,” he amends in the next breath.  
  
“I’m sure I’ll see you around, then.” Baekhyun rolls his lips between his teeth, Chanyeol’s nervousness must be rubbing off on him.  
  
“Nice to meet you, Baekhyun-ssi.”  
  
“Likewise.”  
  
And with that, Chanyeol leaves. Baekhyun follows his orange hair with an intrigued grin. Chanyeol’s shoulders visibly relax once he’s in the vicinity of his younger friends. Baekhyun is pleased when he catches Chanyeol looking over his shoulder a few minutes later, eyes searching curiously until they land on Baekhyun.  
  
He leaves thirty minutes later, after passing Joonmyun a check for the photograph of the grandmother on the sidewalk, leaving the note of _Congratulations on your first sale!_ on the memo line.  
  
  
  
  
  
**From: Jongdae**  
So, what did you think?  
  
**To: Jongdae**  
Definitely interested.  
  
In the art, of course.  
  
**From: Jongdae**  
Pop by tomorrow, around 3? and you’ll have an opportunity see the “art” again. ;)  
  
**To: Jongdae**  
Noted.  
  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
  
  
Ikseon-dong is always more crowded on weekends, dozens of dozens of young couples making their way out to the Jongno neighborhood to meander the streets and sip overpriced coffee. Baekhyun usually wouldn’t venture to the neighborhood during such times, but with Jongdae’s text he can’t really help himself. He winds through the familiar crowds until he’s at Gomok’s entrance.  
  
Like every other shop in the neighborhood, the place is packed. Both Jinki and Sunyoung running around cleaning tables while Jongdae attempts to keep up with the coffee orders behind the counter. Jongdae’s too busy to pay much notice to Baekhyun’s arrival, only managing a small wave and a nod of his head in the direction of the booths in the back.  
  
The orange tresses would make Chanyeol easy to spot, even if Baekhyun weren’t looking for him. Something akin to excitement runs through Baekhyun as he takes in Chanyeol sitting alone at a two-person table. He’s wearing a hoodie today, his camera rests on the table in front of him as he sips his coffee and plays with something on his phone.  
  
Since the place is crowded, it’s easy enough for Baekhyun to approach Chanyeol’s table under the pretense of needing somewhere to sit. After all, they’ve been introduced and there’s nothing strange about asking to share a table.  
  
“See, I told you we’d see each other again,” Baekhyun says playfully in lieu of a greeting.  
  
Chanyeol looks up in surprise. It takes him a moment to recognize Baekhyun, but once he does, a warm smile spreads across his face.  
  
“Nice to see you again, Baekhyun-ssi. What brings you here on a Saturday?”  
  
“Jongdae told me to come in,” Baekhyun doesn’t lie. “So, here I am. What about you?”  
  
“Joonmyun hyung and I are going to go look at some galleries this afternoon. He asked me to meet him here, but he’s running late so Jongdae hyung keeps giving me free coffee.”  
  
“Mind if I keep you company while you wait?” Baekhyun asks, pointing to the chair across from Chanyeol.  
  
“Of course not.”  
  
Unlike the evening previous, today Chanyeol looks every bit like the young college student he is. He looks much more comfortable like this, in his black hoodie and his hair messily falling into his forehead. His shoulders are more relaxed as he leans back into his seat and smiles at Baekhyun. It’s clear to Baekhyun that today, there aren’t any artistic airs occupying Chanyeol’s mind, he’s back to being a college kid with a camera; just lounging in a cafe, not trying to impress anyone.  
  
He watches Baekhyun as he pulls out the chair, his eyes seem to take in every movement Baekhyun makes.  
  
“I’m not sure if it’s appropriate to thank you for buying my photograph, but I will anyway.” Chanyeol smiles down at his thumbs before looking back up at Baekhyun. “It really means a lot, you know. You’re my first official patron.”  
  
“I told you I really liked that shot.” Baekhyun smiles right back. He’s already decided exactly where he’ll hang the photograph in his apartment once it’s no longer on show in Gomok.  
  
“So do you know Joonmyun hyung through work?” Chanyeol changes the subject. He can only handle praise in small doses, Baekhyun is learning. He files that small fact away for later.  
  
“No,” Baekhyun shakes his head. “We’re college friends, actually.”  
  
“Oh yeah?” Chanyeol nods his head in acknowledgement until another thought hits him, and his eyes grow wide. “But wait, isn’t Joonmyun hyung like thirty-six?”  
  
Baekhyun giggles. “How old do you think I am?”  
  
“Late twenties?” Chanyeol asks more than states, like he’s about to accidentally insult Baekhyun.  
  
That’s far from what happens though, Chanyeol’s nervousness only making Baekhyun laugh with more confidence.  
  
“I’m the same age as Jongdae, actually. Thirty-two.”  
  
Chanyeol’s eyes continue flare almost comically as he looks Baekhyun up and down. “Oh wow. You’re old, but you look so young?” Chanyeol marvels.  
  
Baekhyun ignores that Chanyeol has just called him ‘old’ because he thinks the way Chanyeol now looks at him with such fascination is too cute to be offended.  
  
He manages to playfully reach across the table to slap Chanyeol’s arm anyway. “Thirty-two is _not_ old. And if it is, then Joonmyun is nearly geriatric by your standards.”  
  
“Sorry,” Chanyeol says through his laughter. “You just… don’t look thirty-two. I had no idea.”  
  
Baekhyun’s always been proud of his youthful appearance. He knows he isn’t old by any means, but looking a good five years younger than he actually is generally works to his advantage. If only he still had the alcohol tolerance he did when he was twenty-five. That would be the dream.  
  
“Well now you know. _And_ now you know it’s okay to call me hyung.”  
  
“Okay, Baekhyun hyung.” Chanyeol smiles sheepishly, and it reminds Baekhyun of exactly how many years are between himself and Chanyeol — who’s still a college student.  
  
Unlike Baekhyun, Chanyeol still has that youthful fire in his eyes that contradicts the dark circles under them. There’s a pimple along his jaw, his hair messily combed through in some attempt at order. Maybe if it weren’t for the voice — so low and still unanticipated to Baekhyun — Park Chanyeol would be like any other college kid Baekhyun’s seen in the neighborhood, wandering around galleries in his hoodie with a camera around his neck, dreaming of the day when his art will be on display.  
  
There’s something more though, something mature about Chanyeol that Baekhyun can see in his art. He sees the world not through the eyes of a twenty-three year old college student. He sees the world in a way that Baekhyun — a man nearly a decade older — can understand. There’s more to Chanyeol than just naivety and nervous laughs. He can’t put words to it, especially after only conversing with the man twice, but Baekhyun wants to uncover exactly what that is. Chanyeol makes him curious.  
  
“But how are you and Joonmyun hyung college friends if you’re not the same age?”  
  
“Joonmyun is technically my hyung, and Jongdae was my college roommate.” Baekhyun has long since dropped the formalities with Joonmyun. It makes the friendship easier between them, and Joonmyun has never been huge on honorifics. “Jongdae and Joonmyun are kind of a package deal, if you haven’t noticed.”  
  
Chanyeol’s eyebrows raise at the new information as he throws a look over to Jongdae, observing him. “That long, eh?”  
  
Baekhyun’s relieved to see that Chanyeol is aware of Joonmyun and Jongdae’s relationship, not that Jongdae’s really subtle about it. He won’t put up with anyone if they judge him, anyway.  
  
“They celebrated their ten year anniversary last year.”  
  
Chanyeol blinks in surprise a few times as he leans back in his seat. The sleeves of his hood extend past the palms of his hand as he tugs his coffee cup back with him. Baekhyun fights the urge to reach out and roll them up, away from his palms. Not yet.  
  
“Wow.”  
  
“Tell me about it,” Baekhyun rolls his eyes. Sometimes he forgets just how long Jongdae and Joonmyun have been together. At the same time, they’ve been together for so long that Baekhyun hardly has memories of Jongdae being single the first three years of college; like it’s always been Jongdae and Joonmyun.  
  
“He really doesn’t look thirty-two, either. If you hadn’t have told me, I never would have guessed.”  
  
Baekhyun nods, shooting another look at Jongdae. “It’s easy to forget how old Jongdae is when he still wears that stupid lip ring and hasn’t aged a day since twenty-four.”  
  
As if he can sense the pair talking about him, Jongdae looks up in that moment, only to flash a wide smile at Baekhyun, and a very _unsubtle_ thumbs up.  
  
Silence falls between them. Baekhyun wants to break it and ask Chanyeol more about his art, about his process. He wants to know more about what goes on inside that pretty little head; what causes the nervous laughter and the depth to his gaze that people rarely give to strangers.  
  
He takes his time putting the words together. Years of helping to script interviews has him well practiced in knowing what questions to write down. Unfortunately, he’s not as good as being the one to voice them aloud.  
  
He and Chanyeol both open their mouths to speak at the same time Joonmyun walks through the door. They share a nervous laugh… a tentative promise of _later_ and turn their eyes to the newcomer.  
  
Joonmyun raises his eyebrows knowingly as he approaches the table, and throws a scrutinizing look to Jongdae behind the counter. He clearly hadn’t been in on Jongdae’s plans to help Baekhyun run into Chanyeol again. However, Joonmyun is never one to judge, and he’s far more used to rolling with Jongdae’s punches, to being pulled into every scheme Jongdae has — even if he’s informed about it a little late.  
  
“Where are you two headed now?” Baekhyun asks as Chanyeol begins to pack up his things.  
  
“Hongdae,” Joonmyun replies. “There’s a few good photography galleries there that I want Chanyeol to check out. Maybe introduce him to some other curators. There’s a lot of galleries that show college work in that neighborhood…”  
  
As Joonmyun explains, Chanyeol watches him with excited eyes. It’s kind of obvious how much he admires — and might be intimidated by — Joonmyun, and Baekhyun thinks it’s more than a little cute.  
  
“Sounds exciting,” Baekhyun acknowledges.  
  
“We should wrap up around eight if you and Jongdae want to meet us for drinks?” Joonmyun offers in the next breath. He might not be in on Jongdae’s scheme, but Baekhyun knows he’s smart enough to read Baekhyun’s interest.  
  
Baekhyun shifts his gaze over to Chanyeol, wanting to make sure he’s okay with the invitation as well. He’s definitely keen on the idea of getting to see Chanyeol again soon, but he doesn’t want to smother him, or overwhelm him too early on. Chanyeol’s probably still internally hyperventilating over the fact that he has Kim Joonmyun introducing him to other industry big names, and he might not need any more on his plate today. Some pursuits are best done with patience, even when they involve eager college students.  
  
Baekhyun’s relieved to see Chanyeol looking at him hopefully at Joonmyun’s offer; his bottom lip once again pulled between his teeth.  
  
“You should come, hyung. It could be fun.”  
  
Baekhyun turns back to Joonmyun with a confident smile. “I guess I’m convinced, then. Text me where to meet you guys?”  
  
“No problem.”  
  
Joonmyun leads Chanyeol out of Gomok with a guiding hand on his shoulder. Their height difference is almost comical, with Chanyeol reflexively bending his upper body down to accommodate Joonmyun’s arm.  
  
And yes, Baekhyun thinks, he’s definitely interested.  
  
  
  
  
  
Jongdae and Baekhyun meet Joonmyun and Chanyeol outside of Hongdae exit 1. The chill of the fall evening has the tip of Chanyeol’s nose flushed pink, and it makes Baekhyun smile into his scarf the entire walk to the main drag.  
  
“I’m surprised you didn’t want to come with us to the galleries, Baekhyun hyung,” Chanyeol remarks as they try to squeeze themselves through the crowds on Parking Street.  
  
“Why would Baekhyun come?” Joonmyun asks, incredulous. He knows Baekhyun generally only enters the gallery art world when there’s Joonmyun or free wine involved.  
  
“He’s a collector, isn’t he?” Chanyeol responds, obviously perplexed by Joonmyun’s confusion.  
  
Jongdae laughs outright, obviously remembering how he had introduced Baekhyun and Chanyeol the evening before. The laughter only confuses Joonmyun and Chanyeol all the more.  
  
“Baekhyun is more of an occasional collector,” Jongdae corrects. “He’s not actually the gallery type.”  
  
“Oh.” Chanyeol’s eyes drop to the pavement, Jongdae’s words not doing much to ease his confusion.  
  
“Baekhyun only hangs around galleries because he’s friends with us,” Joonmyun amends.  
  
“Hey!” Baekhyun protests, “I can appreciate art, too!”  
  
“Sure you can,” Joonmyun says without an ounce of sarcasm. “But last night was the first time I’ve ever actually seen you purchase anything.”  
  
It’s Baekhyun’s turn to blush. Jongdae delivers a punishing pinch to Joonmyun’s neck, and Baekhyun nearly misses it because he’s too caught up in the way Chanyeol is gazing at him with a strange mix of pride and curiosity. He looks…. flattered. And well, that’s a really good look for Chanyeol, even if it comes at Baekhyun’s expense.  
  
Hongdae is expectedly busy for a Saturday night, and Baekhyun and Chanyeol fall behind Joonmyun and Jongdae in order to navigate the crowded walkway.  
  
“So what do you do then, hyung?” Chanyeol asks as Joonmyun leads them up a less busy road to the right.  
  
“I’m a television producer,” Baekhyun says with pride. “I work for JTBC. You know the special interest non-news stories?”  
  
Chanyeol nods.  
  
“I’m in charge of those. I run a few other weekly segments, but that’s my main focus.”  
  
“That’s really cool, hyung. My mother loves those stories.” Baekhyun lets out a deprecating laugh. He knows his segments are more popular with older people than the youth demographic.  
  
“So you know Kang Seulgi?” Chanyeol continues, missing the way Baekhyun instantly grimaces at the name. “My mother adores her. Wants me to marry her into the family.”  
  
While Chanyeol laughs at the thought, Baekhyun’s lips drop into a scowl. He’s done his best not to think about how well-liked Seulgi is, because right now she’s the main source of all his work-life stress.  
  
Chanyeol either doesn’t catch the change in Baekhyun’s mood, or chooses to ignore it. “It’ll never happen though, I’ve told her dozens of times. Yet, she still hopes…”  
  
Baekhyun is spared any further discussion of Kang Seulgi by their arrival at the bar. The hostess seats them in a back booth, Baekhyun and Chanyeol seated across from Joonmyun and Jongdae. They’re not in Jongno, so Jongdae can’t lean into Joonmyun the way he normally would. Baekhyun doesn’t miss the way Joonmyun’s hand automatically settles on Jongdae’s thigh, though. Following Chanyeol’s gaze, it appears it doesn’t escape his notice, either.  
  
After they’ve ordered the first round, Jongdae takes to questioning Chanyeol about the galleries he and Joonmyun had visited earlier in the afternoon. Most of the lingo goes above Baekhyun’s head, but he likes the way Chanyeol’s eyes light up with excitement as he rattles off piece after piece that caught his eye.  
  
It’s easy to become entranced with the way Chanyeol talks; with his expressive eyes and smile that’s readily given. His laugh is more like a wheezing inhale than a chuckle, but it’s still so loud. He leans across the table subconsciously, the more he becomes entranced in conversation with Jongdae and Joonmyun. Yet, he still throws gazes at Baekhyun every few sentences, gives him a reassuring smile and tries to keep him in the conversation.  
  
Chanyeol’s a lovely young thing, pretty with a fire inside of him; and Baekhyun can definitely work with that.  
  
“So what’s a suit like you doing hanging around the art world?” Chanyeol leans in to ask once Jongdae and Joonmyun have broken off into their own conversation. His hoodie sleeves are still too long as they fall over the skin of his knuckles.  
  
“It comes with the territory of being friends with them.” Baekhyun points very unceremoniously across the table at the couple, keeping his hands busy so they don’t reach out to roll up the nagging fabric. “Despite how much crap they give me, I actually do like visual arts quite a bit.”  
  
“Baekhyun studied film until he sold his soul to the man,” Jongdae chimes in, earning a glare from Baekhyun. It’s something they often joke about though, so he’s not really offended. “He wanted to be a documentary film maker until he had his first internship with KBS.”  
  
“Really?” Chanyeol’s eyebrows raise with interest — like maybe Baekhyun isn’t such a stranger to the world Chanyeol wants to be a part of, afterall.  
  
“Really,” Baekhyun confirms before he shrugs. “At the end of the day, I wasn’t much of a film maker. I had more of an eye for news stories and people than anything cinematic. With JTBC, I still get to do what I want, but more as the boss and less as the artistic director.”  
  
Documentary funding — artistic funding in general — is also a fruitless pursuit, he wants to add. But, he doesn’t want to inadvertently discourage Chanyeol so early on, not when his eyes still light up with so much _optimism_ every time Joonmyun mentions someone new he could work with.  
  
“It’s just hard to imagine you in a suit, bossing people around,” Chanyeol jokes, pulling Baekhyun’s attention back to him. “Especially with how young you look.”  
  
Baekhyun’s lips pull to the side in an almost smirk. “You’ve never seen me at work. I’m completely different.”  
  
And it’s true. Baekhyun likes the control that comes with working for a broadcasting company, the power he has to organize people, the control he has over the stories he’d like to tell. His position hadn’t been easy to secure, and his work formality is a reflection of that hard work.  
  
“Oh yeah?” Chanyeol leans closer, another habit of his Baekhyun is learning about: when you have his attention, he crowds you without thinking. Baekhyun can’t say he minds.  
  
“Sure. I know you think I’m old, but a lot of my subordinates are actually older than I am. I have to overcompensate if I want any sense of respect.”  
  
“So you’re a tyrant?” Chanyeol jokes before taking a drink of his beer. A little remains stuck on his upper lip, and Baekhyun’s eyes follow the movement of his tongue to clean it up.  
  
“Not quite that bad.” Baekhyun shakes his head. “But I certainly wouldn’t want to be caught in a bar in Hongdae in jeans and a t-shirt by any of them.”  
  
Even some of his closest co-workers like Heechul have no idea what goes on in Baekhyun’s private life, and he prefers it that way. Business is one thing, pleasure is another. Simple as that.  
  
“I can get that.” Chanyeol nods, retreating from Baekhyun’s bubble. “Gotta stay professional.”  
  
“What about you?” Baekhyun turns the tables. As proud as he is of his accomplishments, he doesn’t want to talk about JTBC when there’s so much about Chanyeol he has yet to figure out. “You wanna break into the art world so that you never have to grow up and wear uncomfortable suits to work from nine to five?”  
  
Chanyeol chugs the last of his beer before pointing his thumb in Joonmyun’s direction. “I think Joonmyun hyung is pretty good proof that even people in the art world have to grow up.”  
  
“Unfortunately, no one ever told Joonmyun that growing up does not mean bow ties are mandatory.” Baekhyun scrunches his nose in distaste.  
  
“I heard that!” Joonmyun pouts from across the table.  
  
“The bow-ties serve a purpose, believe me,” Jongdae adds with a wink.  
  
“Gross,” Baekhyun and Chanyeol say in unison before the entire table starts laughing. They’re all a little tipsy, and it’s easy to get caught up in the laughter, to slump a little closer to Chanyeol as Baekhyun downs his second beer.  
  
It’s somewhere during the third beer when Chanyeol starts asking questions about Gomok. He’s curious about everything — and maybe a little in awe of Joonmyun. Jongdae, always anxious to share the history of the neighborhood with anyone who’s willing to listen, is more than happy to indulge Chanyeol.  
  
“ _Gomok_ is a good name. It reminds me of the saying about the old tree, and the new flower.”  
  
“He stole that from me,” Baekhyun points out, lazily pointing his beer glass in Joonmyun’s direction.  
  
“I did not _steal_ it, Baekhyun. You can’t steal a word,” Joonmyun chides. They’ve had this argument a dozen times in the year and half Gomok’s been open.  
  
Chanyeol looks between the two, waiting for someone to elaborate.  
  
“ _In an old tree grows a new flower_ was the byline on my first report on Ikseon-dong a couple years ago. Joonmyun liked it so much, he not only invested in the neighborhood, but named his cafe ‘ _Old Tree_.’”  
  
“That was _you_?” Chanyeol asks, eyes suddenly more scrutinizing than seconds before. “That was like, the report that started everything.”  
  
The attention from the younger market that the _hanok_ village got in the wake of Baekhyun’s report _is_ part of what preserved them from being demolished and built over with another Lotte Castle apartment complex. It was only a matter of time before young entrepreneurs like Joonmyun and Jongdae caught on to the cheap price of the abandoned houses, and saw promise in the way the village could be transformed into a commercial area.  
  
“Baekhyun has an eye for these things,” Jongdae brags for Baekhyun. “He likes stories on change, on hidden gems.”  
  
Chanyeol nods before his face falls in contemplation. “Don’t you ever feel guilty about it, though?”  
  
Baekhyun’s perplexed, and maybe a little offended by the question. “Guilty about what?”  
  
“People lived in that neighborhood for decades. Now they’re being chased out by trendy business and hipsters with cameras.”  
  
“’Hipsters with cameras' like… you?” Baekhyun raises an eyebrow.  
  
Chanyeol’s hands instantly come up defensively as he shakes his head. “I don’t wander around Ikseon-dong with a camera, taking colorful photos of my coffee against a crumbling wall to show off on Instagram or something.”  
  
“But you’re fine with hanging your art in those trendy cafes? Of profiting off the patrons who frequent the neighborhood exactly for the reason you just put down?” Baekhyun counters equally quickly.  
  
Chanyeol’s face falls, knowing in a way that he’s been called out, but also not quite ready to let go of his opinion. Baekhyun remembers that Chanyeol is still young. He doesn’t see what Baekhyun sees when he looks at the neighborhood. Chanyeol’s a college kid who clings to causes, opposes gentrification, and fights some changes just because he feels like he should.  
  
Baekhyun had been a student like that once himself, he gets it. With time, his opinions have changed.  
  
Jongdae clears his throat, eyes darting between Chanyeol and Baekhyun. There’s no heavy tension in the air, but he obviously doesn’t want the little debate to turn into a shouting match before they’ve finished their third drink.  
  
“What a lot of people don’t know is that the neighborhood was falling apart before. It was crumbling to the ground, and damn close to being demolished. You may not like change — but sometimes change is the only way to preserve.” Jongdae’s gone through this argument way more times than Baekhyun has. It shows in the way his response comes out level, calm and confident. “Would you rather see an abandoned neighborhood or a restored one?” he asks Chanyeol.  
  
“In a place like Seoul, everything is always changing towards more of the same.” Jongdae continues when Chanyeol shakes his head, no. “The uniform buildings, neighborhoods being striped of personality one marble officetel at a time. The way I see it, Gomok, and the other businesses in Ikseon-dong, are one way of preserving the neighborhood. It’s changing, the demographics are getting younger, but the history is still there.”  
  
“I guess I see that,” Chanyeol admits.  
  
“That’s just my opinion though.” Jongdae smiles reassuringly. He has a knack for warm smiles that can dispel arguments before they get started — one of the features Baekhyun likes best about his friend. “And you’re welcome to have your own. You certainly aren’t alone in your beliefs. I just thought I should share my two cents.”  
  
“It’s cool hyung. Thank you, you know I like learning about the neighborhood. I didn’t mean to point the finger at you, either, Baekhyun hyung.”  
  
Chanyeol smiles apologetically at Baekhyun, and he feels a little bad for getting so worked up at the younger’s comment. He sees his point, _he does_ , but he’s spent so much time watching Ikseon-dong come back to life that he hates to see it written off as another case of capitalism and gentrification destroying a neighborhood.  
  
By the end of the fourth drink, the minor argument is forgotten. Instead, the group is too busy laughing at Jongdae’s re-telling of the rich Gangnam woman who is determined to get his phone number, despite how many times he’s turned her down. Joonmyun throws a possessive arm around Jongdae’s shoulder and kisses his head.  
  
Without thinking, Baekhyun ends up leaning into Chanyeol, who accepts him with an open arm. It’s warm where the skin of Chanyeol’s fingers brush against his shoulder, still padded by the sleeves of his hoodie.  
  
  
  
Joonmyun and Jongdae catch a taxi home a half an hour later. Chanyeol stumbles trying to turn his body in the direction of the subway station, but his feet seem unwilling to cooperate. Baekhyun laughs at the sight for a moment before he’s tugging Chanyeol by the arm into a taxi. He doesn’t think twice about touching Chanyeol, not like this, not with how many drinks they both have in them.  
  
He wants to touch more. Holding himself back is easy when his limbs don’t fully cooperate, and Chanyeol slips out of his grip — very ungracefully — across the entire back seat. It’s for the best, really. Even if it takes a good ten seconds for Chanyeol to collect himself and sit upright, the taxi driver grumbling under his breath all the while.  
  
Chanyeol leans against the door behind the driver. His long legs don’t quite fit in the backseat without having to be spread comically wide, even his head rests more on the curve of the ceiling than against the window. He’s lanky, all limbs and uncoordinated movements. Baekhyun’s mind with too many beers in it wanders into more dangerous territory when he considers how those same limbs would fit in his own bed.  
  
He has to distract himself from the thought, because he’s going to take his time with this one. His eyes move to the ceiling of the cab and not the way Chanyeol’s lips look even more pouty when intoxicated. Baekhyun may find the paneled ceiling tacky, but he takes some reassurance that there will be padding when Chanyeol’s head inevitably collides with it.  
  
Though half-lidded, Baekhyun can feel Chanyeol’s eyes on him; half focused on his eyes, half focused on his chin. It’s not unnerving, especially with the dopey smile Chanyeol drunkenly lets break through.  
  
The cab driver’s sudden hit of the breaks has Baekhyun slamming cheek first into the seat in front of him. He’s drunk enough for it to be more hilarious than painful, and Chanyeol’s wheezing laugh is contagious in the small cab.  
  
“You’re so drunk, hyung.” Chanyeol laughs out, between gasps for air. His eyes are closed fully, and he looks a bit ridiculous, smiling so happily while his chest heaves for oxygen.  
  
“You’re pretty,” Baekhyun lets slip before he catches himself.  
  
Chanyeol’s cheeks are already red from the alcohol, and it’s too dark to tell, but Baekhyun thinks they blush even deeper in the wake of his small confession. Chanyeol’s eyes flicker open, gaze all too intense as he tries to focus on Baekhyun.  
  
“I’m not _pretty_ ,” Chanyeol corrects, new determination breaking through his tipsy slurring. “If anything, I’m handsome.”  
  
“So young,” Baekhyun mumbles into the window. “Needs to be polished.”  
  
“You’ve lost me, hyung.” Chanyeol’s laugh echoes through Baekhyun’s mind all the way to his apartment. Baekhyun only opens his eyes to watch Chanyeol stumble out of the cab, his too long limbs struggling to find solid ground while his upper body fights the pull of gravity.  
  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
  
On Tuesday, Baekhyun settles on Park Sooyoung as Seulgi’s replacement. He re-watches her screen test a dozen times, and flinches each time she stumbles over her words, or mis-reads the teleprompter. Yet, he likes her smile. There’s a genuineness to it that no amount of training could provide. It might be an awkward few months, training her, but he thinks he can get her there.  
  
With the decision behind him, it’s easy to get started on segment pitches with the rest of his team. They have twelve time slots to fill, and one month to set everything up. Chanyeol’s question on the morals of renovating Ikseon-dong has Baekhyun thinking it might be time to re-visit the neighborhood. Maybe he can snag some interviews with the older residential population and contrast them with the point of views of those restoring Ikseon-dong. It could be a great piece — if not a nostalgic way — for Baekhyun to kick off the season.  
  
  
  
It’s the arrival of a new conversation thread in his inbox on Thursday that finally pulls his thoughts from work and production schedules.  
  
**From: Chanyeol**  
Hey hyung. There’s a gallery opening this Saturday that Joonmyun wants me to go to with him and Jongdae. I figured since you’re a “collector” and all, you might want to tag along.  
  
Baekhyun smiles at his screen before another message appears in the chat.  
  
**From: Chanyeol**  
Please don’t make me third wheel with them, hyung.  
  
  
  
  
  
Maybe Baekhyun’s a sucker for being needed, or maybe it’s the fact that he hasn’t gotten Chanyeol’s wheezing laugh out of his head all week, that has him standing outside the subway station in Itaewon on Saturday evening. It’s hard to approach things slowly when Chanyeol is the one reaching out to him.  
  
“Hey, hyung.”  
  
Chanyeol’s smile reaches his eyes like always when he spots Baekhyun. He’s wearing that sports jacket again, the one with the too short sleeves and the un-ironed collar. Apparently, it’s the only formal wear he owns. Has he even washed it since his show’s opening?  
  
There is one difference to his appearance from the first time that they met, and that is that tonight, Chanyeol’s combed his hair back — though it’s still orange as ever.  
  
“How long will the hair stay orange?” Baekhyun can’t help himself from asking as he leads them up the hill toward HBC. It’s never been a neighborhood he’s fond of, mostly because of all the steep hills, but he knows Joonmyun is fond of the international art scene it offers.  
  
Chanyeol laughs under his breath, hands immediately reaching to run his fingers through his hair. “Orange? Not too much longer. But it won’t be black again anytime soon, either.”  
  
“I think red would work for you.” Red is a passionate color, it reminds Baekhyun of the spark in Chanyeol’s eyes when he talks about photography, about what he sees in the world through his lens.  
  
“Really?” Chanyeol’s lips purse in thought. “I’ll have to try that next.”  
  
“Who knows, it might help you get your subjects to notice you when you take their pictures.” Baekhyun teases, leaning to bump Chanyeol’s shoulder as they walk up the hill. “Fuck, I hate all the hills in HBC.”  
  
“Most of the time, I ask permission before I take someone’s picture.” Chanyeol’s out of breath, too. “It’s rude not to, really.”  
  
“Hadn’t thought of that.” Baekhyun can imagine Chanyeol walking up to the tiny grandmother, asking if it’s okay to take her picture. He can perfectly see the polite smile on his face, the re-assuring kindness in his eyes. It’s only his imagination, but it endears him all the more.  
  
Now is as good a time as any to ask the question that’s been on the tip of his tongue since the first time he’d seen Chanyeol’s photographs.  
  
“So why do you do photograph people?” He questions just as they reach the top of the hill.  
  
It takes Chanyeol a moment to consider his response. “Everyone has an image of themselves, something they want to project on the outside world. Some people walk around like everyone is watching, but there are some people who feel like they’re invisible… I guess, I like capturing that.”  
  
There’s a strange dichotomy Baekhyun likes about Chanyeol. The way he stumbles over his words, overly formal and nervous most of the time. Yet, when he’s talking about art, his words are nothing short of sure, eloquent and entirely confident.  
  
“What about me?” Baekhyun questions. He has no desire to be photographed, but he does wonder what Chanyeol sees in him; how Chanyeol would picture Baekhyun through his camera lens. There’s a way Chanyeol looks at him sometimes — like he’s sizing him up, figuring him out, too — and Baekhyun’s curious what conclusions he’s drawn so far.  
  
“What about you?”  
  
“How do I look to the world?”  
  
Chanyeol’s feet stop in place, forcing Baekhyun to pause with him. He spends a moment inspecting Baekhyun, eyes tracing what feels like every centimeter of his face before he speaks.  
  
His voice dips even lower, like he’s sharing a secret.  
  
“You look at the world like you’re searching for something, waiting for something you can fix, claim even.” Chanyeol scratches the back of his head.  
  
Struck a little by Chanyeol’s words, Baekhyun stutters out, ”And if you took my picture, what would you want to capture?”  
  
“It doesn’t work like that, hyung.” Chanyeol laughs, shaking his head. “I’d just want to capture _you_. If i try to capture a specific feeling, it wouldn’t work. What matters to me is trying to uncover the side of someone that most people don’t see.”  
  
Baekhyun doesn’t realize how close he’s moved to Chanyeol until he feels Chanyeol’s warm exhale hit his cheeks.  
  
He takes a step back, feeling that he’s somehow revealed too much of himself without showing anything. Like somehow, this twenty-three year old college student can see right through him. He’s always seen himself as completely in control of how others see him, of the image he projects on the world. But Chanyeol, with his artistic intuition and wide eyes, can look right through him, even without a camera lens. It’s unnerving.  
  
“We should get moving. Joonmyun doesn’t like when his protégés are late.”  
  
  
  
  
Oh Sehun: aspiring model, handsome, untapped potential. He’d looked pretty in Baekhyun’s sheets, hanging from his arm.  
  
That same Oh Sehun now stands across the room, smiling at Joonmyun. His new suit is perfectly tailored, hair combed back exactly the way Baekhyun had shown him looks best. He shouldn’t be here, laughing with Joonmyun like that, popping back in Baekhyun’s life like he didn’t leave it behind willingly months ago.  
  
Sehun meets Baekhyun’s eyes almost as soon as Chanyeol and Baekhyun cross the threshold into the gallery — a side effect of being on his arm for months, probably. It’s a photography show, as expected, but Baekhyun is more preoccupied with the way Sehun instantly moves to greet him. Sehun and Chanyeol are about the same height, but Sehun walks with a confident grace across the hardwood floors, not with the clumpy steps he’d just witnessed from Chanyeol the entire walk to the gallery.  
  
“Baekhyun hyung.” Sehun smiles, his tone formal with practiced warmth in his eyes. “Long time, no see.”  
  
“Hello, Sehun.”  
  
Sehun’s eyes shift to Chanyeol, who looks like a fish out of water in his wrinkled sports coat compared to Sehun’s designer suit. Baekhyun had bought him his first designer suit, and he wonders if it’s still in Sehun’s closet. Or, if it’s been replaced by an entirely new wardrobe at this point.  
  
“How have you been?” Sehun asks at the same time that Chanyeol dips into an introductory bow. Baekhyun wants to pull Chanyeol back up by his shirt collar, wants him to be cold to Sehun for no reason. He doesn’t want them to meet.  
  
“So you’re…?” Sehun begins, turning his attention to Chanyeol with an amused smile.  
  
Baekhyun isn’t willing to let him finish his question. “This is Park Chanyeol, a photographer Joonmyun’s recently taken under his wing.”  
  
Sehun’s eyes shift knowingly between the pair. He’s too familiar with Baekhyun — with Baekhyun’s habits — to buy the introduction at face value. He’s clever and sharp, eyes devoid of any sentiment even if Baekhyun knows what’s going through his mind. It’s the small tug of Sehun’s lips that reminds Baekhyun that Sehun knows his thoughts just as well.  
  
“I’ve seen you before,” Chanyeol observes, oblivious to the tension between the two. “You were in _Vogue Korea_ last month, right?”  
  
Sehun’s lips shift into a flattered smile. It’s the one Baekhyun likes best, when he doesn’t quite make eye contact and bites his bottom lip. It’s genuine. “I was. Are you interested in fashion photography?”  
  
“Oh, no.” Chanyeol waves his hands dismissively. “I just like portraiture. So I keep up with a lot of magazines.”  
  
“I see.” Sehun nods, quirking an eyebrow at Baekhyun.  
  
“Are you here with Yixing?” Baekhyun asks. He already knows the answer.  
  
“Yeah, he’s around here somewhere.” Sehun laughs under his breath. “You know he has to mingle more than I do.”  
  
Zhang Yixing; publishing mogul with an income triple Baekhyun’s had been when he’d met Sehun. Yixing offered more than Baekhyun could, and Baekhyun had been nothing more than a stepping stone on Sehun’s rise to fame. Baekhyun may have bought Sehun the suits, introduced him to a few people; but it had been Yixing who got him in _Ceci_ and _Vogue Korea_. It had been Yixing who’d finally given Sehun the big break he’d been searching for.  
  
He’s not bitter, not anymore. Yet, there’s still a sting in his chest when Sehun searches the crowd for Yixing and smiles with nothing but pure admiration.  
  
“I’d better go find him, actually. It was nice to see you, Baekhyun hyung.” He bows. “And nice to meet you too, Park Chanyeol.”  
  
“That was… interesting,” Chanyeol comments in Sehun’s wake.  
  
“Was it?”  
  
“I didn’t know you knew supermodels, hyung.” Chanyeol wiggles his eyebrows. Baekhyun can’t be sure if Chanyeol understands the conversation that just took place before him, but he has a sinking suspicion that there’s very little Chanyeol misses, even if he pulls off that oblivious smile so well. “You’re pretty cool.”  
  
“We used to be close,” Baekhyun dismisses as quickly as he can. He turns his attention instead to the gallery space, eyes seeking out the re-assuring comfort of Jongdae.  
  
  
  
Aside from the surprise appearance of Oh Sehun, nothing about the gallery opening is unexpected. Junmyeon intercepts Chanyeol early on and leads him around by the shoulder, introducing him to important people, while Baekhyun and Jongdae heckle in whispers at the bar.  
  
Baekhyun doesn’t like the shots on the wall as much as he likes Chanyeol’s photographs. He doesn’t see the same understanding of the subject in the obviously posed, magazine-style shots framed cleanly on the wall. The colors are pretty, the quality desirable, but everything is too stale, too impersonal for Baekhyun to feel any attachment to the art itself.  
  
Watching Chanyeol converse with other art directors is far more entertaining than the art, anyway. Chanyeol follows Joonmyun around like a puppy, his shoulders slumping forward naturally as he talks to people — like he’s so accustomed to adjusting his height for those around him, to making himself as unintimidating as possible. He smiles too wide sometimes that it’s almost frightening, but it’s genuine. It’s those kinds of smiles that put people at ease around him and make Joonmyun pat his back affectionately without thinking.  
  
When those same smiles are thrown at Baekhyun from across the room, Baekhyun realizes Chanyeol is just as hyper-aware as he is. Chanyeol checks in with quick grins and thumbs up, and Baekhyun laughs into his wine glass.  
  
Chanyeol leans in to laugh against Joonmyun, and Baekhyun feels a familiar pull in his gut. He wants to walk up beside Chanyeol, wrap his arm around the man’s waist, and be the one to guide him through these conversations. He knows Chanyeol is in more than capable hands with Joonmyun, but he doesn’t want to watch Chanyeol wander off to someone else. He wants Chanyeol to keep looking at him with that strange focus in his eyes like he’d seen at the crest of the HBC hill; he wants Chanyeol’s attention, too.  
  
“So, you’ve purchased a photograph, and I saw you two come in together…” Jongdae catches one of Chanyeol’s nervous smiles in Baekhyun’s direction. Of course he notes the way Baekhyun’s cheeks flush at the attention. “Safe to say you’re a little more than interested? Keen to invest?”  
  
Baekhyun takes a moment to consider the question, and spends a few moments observing Chanyeol across the room. His ears stick out comically from his orange hair, and each of his words is punctuated with an overly-animated hand gesture that occasionally has Joonmyun moving out of the way.  
  
“He’s cute.”  
  
He hears Jongdae chuckle to himself. “He’s been asking me about you, you know.”  
  
That gets Baekhyun’s attention. “He has?”  
  
“Yup.” Jongdae takes a lazy sip of wine, dragging out the process just to see how much Baekhyun will give away in his impatience. “Lord knows why, but that kid thinks you’re interesting.”  
  
“I _am_ interesting.” Baekhyun shoves Jongdae half heartedly. “What did you tell him, then?”  
  
“Hmm… just that if he’s a good enough fuck, you’ll take him under your wing and make him famous.”  
  
“You would never.” Baekhyun narrows his eyes. Jongdae’s not far off from the truth, but there’s no way he would let that slip to Chanyeol, not so soon.  
  
Jongdae laughs. “You’re right, I wouldn’t. Not yet, at least.”  
  
“Joonmyun’s the one who will make him famous anyway.” Baekhyun nods his attention towards Jongdae’s partner. Joonmyun is so much shorter than Chanyeol, but he’s without a doubt the more intimidating of the two as they chat up some big investor. “That’s kind of his specialty.”  
  
“What’ll _you_ do, then?”  
  
“I’ll…” Baekhyun knows the words before they fall from his lips. They’re the same ones he’d whispered to Oh Sehun all those months ago, familiar and oh so sure, “I’ll take care of him.”  
  
But there’s something more to Park Chanyeol that Baekhyun wants to _understand_ , and not just proposition. Something in his eyes, the way he leans against the bar beside Joonmyun and scans the room. He watches everything so intently with so much interest. He looks at Baekhyun like maybe he can see right through him, reading him at too close a distance when they talk, saving each flicker of emotion on Baekhyun’s face to memory.  
  
Maybe Park Chanyeol is such a promising talent because he sees too much, and hides it under over eager smiles and clumsy hand gestures.  
  
The idea that Chanyeol might see him too well — knows Baekhyun’s just waiting to claim something, someone — is as exciting as it is terrifying. But, Baekhyun’s a collector, always looking for something new to polish. He’s up for the challenge.  
  
When Chanyeol’s eyes once again find Baekhyun’s across the room, instinctively seeking him out, Baekhyun thinks that Chanyeol might be up for it, too.  
  
  
It’s the appearance of another college-age guest that really catches Baekhyun’s attention. Admittedly, he’s been keeping an eye on Chanyeol all night, overly aware of his presence. Something about the newest arrival is different, though. He’s short like Joonmyun, approaches Chanyeol with a familiar confidence, and is instantly enveloped in a hug. The familiarity between the pair makes Baekhyun bite down on his lip to control his grimace.  
  
Baekhyun can’t fight the pull of his feet when he watches the shorter man bid Chanyeol farewell.  
  
“Old friend?” He asks once he’s within hearing range.  
  
Chanyeol fumbles for a moment. “That’s Do Kyungsoo. He’s my ex-… something.”  
  
Chanyeol stops himself suddenly, like he’s shared too much. He’s nervous, lip rolling between his teeth as he waits. Baekhyun can feel the anxiety emanating from Chanyeol as he reads Baekhyun’s face for any kind of reaction.  
  
“Oh.” Well that clears a few things up.  
  
Baekhyun wants to ease Chanyeol’s nerves, but in a space like this, it’s hard. These are the kinds of conversations he saves for safer spaces, where such a big reveal won’t need to be whispered, where it could be implicitly understood.  
  
He inhales, supposing the only way to ease the dig of Chanyeol’s teeth into his lips is to reveal a little about himself as well. “Remember Oh Sehun? The model you met tonight?”  
  
Chanyeol’s eyelashes flutter as he blinks a few times, recalling the memory and trying to put the pieces together. He nods.  
  
“He’s my ex-something as well.”  
  
Realization flashes through Chanyeol’s eyes.  
  
“Yeah?” There’s the glint in his eyes again, nervous blinking gone as he looks at Baekhyun in a different light. Baekhyun thinks he sees some hope in the gaze, but there’s an edge to it he can’t quite pinpoint — as if maybe something else has been confirmed for him about Baekhyun.  
  
Baekhyun wishes he could know what it is.  
  
The air feels strangely heavy between them, making Baekhyun aware of his own breathing and every twitch of his face. He’s not used to being looked at like this, even if he’s fully familiar with the stirring of his gut when Chanyeol’s eyes fall to his lips.  
  
“Yeah,” is all he manages to breathe out before Jongdae is crowding the both of them, and steering them towards the open bar.  
  
  
That almost-knowing edge to Chanyeol’s gaze disappears as soon as he’s distracted by new faces, new conversations. Yet, it lingers in the back of Baekhyun’s mind all evening. Even after he’s sent Chanyeol home in a taxi, slipping money for the fare into his hand and shutting the door closed before Chanyeol has a second to protest.  
  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
  
Monday means back to work. Training Sooyoung for her first season is no easy feat. She’s overwhelmed by the storyboards Baekhyun lays out in front of her and the team; but she smiles through her nervous laughter, nods along enthusiastically at every note.  
  
They’ve settled on six stories so far. They’ll begin filming in two weeks, with a revisiting of Ikseon-dong. All Baekhyun needs to do is bribe Joonmyun and Jongdae into being interviewed. It’s easily done with a couple of drinks and the promise to give Jongdae all the screen time he wants to explain the history of the neighborhood.  
  
With the segment’s popularity also came a higher budget, which means the team will be flying out to Japan in November to look into international marriages and explore the way couples navigate their cultural differences between two countries. Baekhyun’s pitched this story several times over the past couple years, and he does an internal happy dance that Heechul’s _finally_ given him the green light.  
  
“Don’t let it get too political,” Heechul warns from his seat at the head of the conference table. “People watch these segments mainly as fluff pieces, we don’t want to launch another Korea versus Japan argument. We get enough of that every day on the news.”  
  
‘Fluff pieces.’ Baekhyun hates that term, so dismissive and condescending. It’s used as if real people are just anecdotal; like the lives of the everyday aren’t complex, aren’t interesting or serious enough to warrant _real_ thought.  
  
He re-assures Heechul anyway, because there’s nothing else he really can do.  
  
  
  
  
He’s just wrapping up the meeting when his cell phone goes off in his pocket. He smiles reading Chanyeol’s name flashing on the screen. It hasn’t even been a week, and Baekhyun’s been trying to give Chanyeol space to mull over whatever revelation hit him on Saturday night. Yet, it seems to always be Chanyeol who reaches out first, catching Baekhyun off guard.  
  
“ _Hey, hyung._ ” Chanyeol sounds excited, even through the static. “ _Am I bothering you at work?_ ”  
  
Baekhyun shakes his head no, even if Chanyeol can’t see it. Heechul does, though, and he raises a skeptical eyebrow.  
  
“You caught me at a good time. Just finished a meeting. What’s up?”  
  
“ _I’ve been thinking about what you asked me on Saturday about why I photograph people and such. You seemed curious, so I have an idea._ ”  
  
Baekhyun fights the excitement that comes at the mention that Chanyeol’s been thinking about Saturday night, and the eager tone that comes with his greeting.  
  
“Okay, shoot.”  
  
“ _Tag along with me for a photo session this weekend, and I’ll show my process: the places I go, the kinds of things that catch my eye. Who knows, you might find your next story._ ”  
  
As Chanyeol rattles off with over excited syllables, a fond smile forms on Baekhyun’s face. It sounds nice, really, watching Chanyeol work, getting a glimpse of how he sees Seoul.  
  
“I guess I can agree to that.” He purses his lips, trying to hold back a full smile because Heechul is squinting at him curiously from across the table.  
  
“ _Great! I’ve gotta go to class now but —_ ”  
  
“— I’ll see you Saturday?” Baekhyun cuts him off.  
  
“ _I’ll text you the details,_ ” Chanyeol confirms. “ _Bye, hyung._ ”  
  
Baekhyun hangs up his phone, only giving Heechul a shrug before he can ask any questions.  
  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
  
“Where are you taking me?”  
  
Baekhyun scowls down at his T-money card. When Chanyeol said ‘tag along’ Baekhyun hadn’t anticipated riding the bus as part of the deal. Yet, here he is at the bus stop. The things he does for cute college students.  
  
Chanyeol has a scarf wrapped around the lower half of his face, concealing the teasing smile he directs at Baekhyun.  
  
“It’s a surprise, hyung.”  
  
The bus’ heater runs on full blast. Immediately, Baekhyun regrets wearing such a heavy coat. The bus is crowded, and the body heat of the occupants is more than enough to heat it as it jerks around with each swerve in and out of traffic.  
  
“I’m uncomfortable, this bus smells, and I am not having fun,” Baekhyun complains under his breath after about the fifth time the bus driver slams on the breaks. He’s pushed into the woman on his left so many times in the past five minutes that she’s now openly scowling at him.  
  
Chanyeol just laughs. His long limbs must give him a better center of gravity. Or maybe he’s more used to the nauseating lurching of Seoul bus rides and can anticipate its every shift..  
  
“Why are we on the bus? I have a car. We could be in the car, and not _here_.” The woman behind Baekhyun sneezes directly into his shoulder. He raises an eyebrow at Chanyeol as if this is all the proof he needs to show that this is a horrible idea.  
  
“You said you wanted to understand what I see in people. This...” Chanyeol uses his hand that isn’t holding the overhead grip to gesture at the packed bus, “...is prime people watching territory. How can you run human interest segments if you aren’t interested in humans?”  
  
“I _am_ interested in humans,” Baekhyun says with exasperation, “Just not when they’re pressed up against me.”  
  
The woman beside him most likely hears that comment, but Baekhyun is distracted with the way Chanyeol wiggles his eyebrows. He’s thankful that they’re close enough for him to reach out and backhand him in the arm quickly.  
  
Chanyeol takes the hit in stride, smirking through whatever minor pain Baekhyun might have inflicted. Smirks look good on him, much like every other expression he sports.  
  
Something catches Chanyeol’s eyes over Baekhyun’s shoulder. After a moment he gestures with his chin for Baekhyun to follow his line of vision to the window seats on the other side of the aisle.  
  
There are two women: one ahjumma with a perm and a purple hiking jacket. The other, seated behind her, is much younger — maybe around Baekhyun’s age. They lean against the window in exactly the same way, their eyes shut in a brief bus nap.  
  
They’re strangers — both lost in their own worlds — yet they’re mirroring each other perfectly. There’s something connecting them in this moment, unbeknownst to both of them.  
  
Of course, it’s Chanyeol that sees it.  
  
Chanyeol’s balance is wobbly when he reaches for the camera that’s hanging from his neck and raises it in front of his face. He sways with the bus as he discreetly snaps a few shots.  
  
“I thought you said you always ask permission?” Baekhyun whispers once Chanyeol lowers the camera.  
  
“You can’t see their faces with the ISO I have set, just the outlines of their bodies.” Chanyeol smiles reassuringly. His arm reaches for the hand grip just in time to save him from another harsh slam of the breaks. “Should be fine.”  
  
Baekhyun’s eyes fall back to the two women, thinking of how he would have never noticed such a strangely intimate scene if it hadn’t have been pointed out for him by Chanyeol. He wonders what else he misses in the scenes around him every day.  
  
  
  
  
They get off the bus in the outer edges of Mapo-dong. Baekhyun exhales with relief into the chill of the fresh air. There’s definitely a subway stop nearby that they could have used, but the image Chanyeol had taken on the bus makes the uncomfortable aboveground journey kind of worth it. Almost.  
  
Baekhyun’s not used to being led around like this; usually it’s him doing the leading through forgotten neighborhoods of Seoul. Without the usual control, or a clipboard and itinerary in his hands, he feels disoriented.  
  
Chanyeol seems to notice his discomfort and smiles reassuringly, his orange hair catching the sunlight in a way that seems to light up his entire face. His scarf has loosened around his neck, and Baekhyun instinctively reaches up to wrap it back in place. Chanyeol doesn’t flinch, even when Baekhyun’s cool fingertips brush against his face. If anything, he watches Baekhyun’s face intently— making him go slightly cross eyed — but he doesn’t push him away.  
  
It re-grounds Baekhyun a bit, taking charge and daringly touching Chanyeol. He’s rewarded with the contented smile Chanyeol gives him as he fluffs up the scarf below Chanyeol’s chin.  
  
“So, why Mapo?” Baekhyun asks once the scarf is secure and he pulls away.  
  
“I used to live in this neighborhood.” Chanyeol reaches for his camera, turning it on and messing with the settings. “There’s a lot of hidden gems around here.”  
  
His cheeks are flushed. Baekhyun wonders if that’s the reason Chanyeol’s choosing to play with his camera instead of making eye contact with him. His fingers move in practiced succession, pushing a series of buttons and snapping test shots of the pavement.  
  
“Then I guess I’ll let you lead the way?” Baekhyun encourages just as Chanyeol points the camera at him and Baekhyun hears the distinctive shutter of the lens. Baekhyun’s shocked gasp is enough to force Chanyeol to look over the camera and shrug playfully before leading them down the road.  
  
“See that building over there?” Chanyeol asks as the round a corner. He points over Baekhyun’s shoulder to the building across the road.  
  
“Yeah?” Baekhyun squints his eyes in an attempt to read the lettering of the sign above the doorway.  
  
“I lived there my first year in Seoul.”  
  
Baekhyun sees it now, the clear label of _goshiwon_ written beneath the building name.  
  
“Lived _there_?” He double checks. It’s difficult to imagine Chanyeol’s long limbs crammed into a bedroom the size of a closet. It would be comical if not for the fact that _goshiwons_ are hardly pleasant places to live. They’re a last resort: cheap rent for four walls, a bed and a shared bathroom. They’re _temporary_ — for university students cramming for exams, or someone between apartments. “For a whole year?”  
  
“Almost,” Chanyeol confirms.  
  
The idea sounds awful to Baekhyun.  
  
“But, why?”  
  
Chanyeol’s lips fall into a frown. “I was accepted into K-arts, but that didn’t exactly mean I could afford to _attend_ K-arts. Not to mention how expensive it is to move to Seoul. I couldn’t afford the deposit for the dorms, so I ended up here.”  
  
Something pinches in Baekhyun’s chest as Chanyeol continues.  
  
“It took a while for my scholarships to come through, and by then I was already nose deep in foundation year studies. I really didn’t mind it though, Mister Lee was a great landlord. He fed me more ramen in that year than I think I’d had in the entire twenty years prior.”  
  
Chanyeol laughs to himself. It’s enough to make Baekhyun smile along too, appreciating how fond Chanyeol sounds of somewhere he’d probably never step foot in.  
  
“My photographs weren’t the best when I lived there, I was an even bigger novice then. But, living with twenty or so other people — with everyone coming and going so quickly — gave me a lot of perspective on people. I dunno, I guess I still appreciate it because this grimy building helped me find my focus, my muse.”  
  
Imagining an even younger Chanyeol — with his silly camera wrapped around his neck and over eager eyes — in a place like the _goshiwon_ hard for Baekhyun. Mostly because he wants Chanyeol to be safe, secure, not stuck in some worn down building, eating ramen for every meal. The nostalgia in Chanyeol’s voice, though, brings warmth to Baekhyun. Chanyeol isn’t glossing things over, instead he’s exposing them with the same lens he uses in all his photographs: it’s reality, it isn’t easy, but there’s humanity everywhere, even in the seediest corners of Seoul.  
  
“No one should live in a _goshiwon_ forever though, hyung. Believe me. Thankfully, I met Minseok who was looking for a new roommate second year. I’ve been there since. I wanted to come back to this neighborhood. It’s been a long time since I shot around here, and I’m curious to see how much things have changed.” Chanyeol nods again to himself resolutely before continuing down the block. “Plus, Jongdae said you liked hidden gems and stuff. This neighborhood is definitely one of those.”  
  
That small comment over his shoulder, and the way Chanyeol purses his lips almost teasingly, has Baekhyun trailing behind him — no longer grumpy about the cold, and very intrigued.  
  
  
  
It may have been a while, but Chanyeol still knows the neighborhood like the back of his hand. He steers Baekhyun down narrow alleys, and into small shops that Baekhyun easily would have overlooked, with an arm around his shoulder. Baekhyun can’t tell if it’s entirely intentional when Chanyeol’s fingers brush against the skin of his neck the first time, but he knows Chanyeol can feel the way he instinctively shivers each time.  
  
As he’s snapping pictures of storefronts and passersby, Chanyeol rattles off his fondest memories of the area — each new block bringing another silly escapade or interesting character to mind.  
  
Chanyeol wasn’t lying about asking permission for photographs, either. It’s nothing short of endearing, the way he bends over to talk to the restaurant workers, asking if he can take their photograph. Baekhyun has a feeling the women want to say no, until they get a dose of Chanyeol’s puppy-eyes and most-charming smile.  
  
“Please say yes,” he pleads in his deep voice, eyes crinkling, and they do.  
  
He’s so handsome, even when he’s bundled up in a fluffy scarf, and his bow legs sticking out more prominently where the wool coat ends and his tight jeans cling to his thighs.  
  
He’s obviously in his element here. The camera gives him a wave of confidence Baekhyun can recognize — it’s the same feeling he has when he’s behind the camera, directing shots and prompting reporters with encouraging smiles.  
  
Chanyeol doesn’t just take pictures either, he talks to people the entire time. He asks them about their lives, their families. He uses the same tones of genuine curiosity with his subjects that he uses with Baekhyun and Jongdae. Baekhyun watches from the sidelines as Chanyeol does his best to figure people out as he takes their pictures.  
  
“You talk more than any photographer I’ve ever seen,” Baekhyun observes as they exit the small kalbi restaurant.  
  
Chanyeol purses his lips for a moment. “Talking to people is a good way to get them to open up, to see who they really are. I don’t want them posed and stuffy in my shots, I want them comfortable.”  
  
It’s amazing that Chanyeol can walk and stare at the screen, scrolling through his shots at the same time.  
  
“But if they’re talking the whole time, how can you get any good shots?” Baekhyun already knows Chanyeol is more than capable of getting the right shot, but after watching his process the shots seem impossible with the way he always has his subject engaged in conversation.  
  
“The shots come naturally when your subject trusts you.” Chanyeol’s so distracted by his screen that he walks ahead of Baekhyun, missing the way Baekhyun checks out his thighs as he pulls ahead. “It’s the moments between the words, when they look away, or are listening to you that are my favorite.”  
  
Baekhyun pulls his eyes away from Chanyeol’s thighs to consider his words for a moment. His response is almost out of his mouth when he hears the now-familiar click of Chanyeol’s shutter. He looks up to see the camera pointed directly at him, and Chanyeol smirking beneath the camera body.  
  
“The trick is to distract them with conversation.” Chanyeol beams victoriously. “Then take their picture when they forget there’s a camera pointed at them.”  
  
Baekhyun glares, but Chanyeol is already chuckling under his breath, letting the camera fall against his chest in favor of watching Baekhyun blink through his surprise at the ambush.  
  
“You think you’re so sneaky,” Baekhyun chides, even if he’s not actually bothered at all. “Distracting me with conversation, taking my picture without my permission.”  
  
“Like I said, hyung.” Chanyeol winks. “You just have to earn their trust, distract a little bit, and the shots come naturally.”  
  
Baekhyun’s cheeks feel warm, because Chanyeol’s smiling down at him with such pride. Chanyeol is so confident like this. His clumsiness still breaks through though when he stumbles over his words, or his own feet, but it’s enough to make him human to the people around him, enough to earn their trust.  
  
“You don’t say,” Baekhyun deadpans.  
  
But it’s obviously working, because half of Baekhyun wants to demand Chanyeol delete the pictures immediately, but another part of him is willing to let the ambush slide. He also likes the way Chanyeol’s eyes trail along the features of his face before settling on his lips. They’re much closer than they were moments before, and he can feel Chanyeol’s warm breath when he chuckles to himself.  
  
“Plus, it’s kind of hard to resist taking your picture when you keep biting your lip like that.”  
  
It’s far from subtle — as most things with Chanyeol are not — but Baekhyun gets it. Chanyeol didn’t just invite him out to have Baekhyun watch him take pictures. He seems to have his own agenda. Baekhyun can’t say he minds.  
  
Instead of giving Chanyeol the satisfaction of watching Baekhyun blush at the revelation though, he rolls his eyes teasingly and pushes ahead.  
  
He shouldn’t be surprised when he hears the shutter go off again behind his back.  
  
“Appreciating the view?” he hollers without looking back.  
  
“Something like that.”  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Once Chanyeol’s memory card is full they go eat _samgyupsal._  
  
For most of the dinner, Baekhyun just listens to Chanyeol talk over the sizzling meat and cold beer; he rambles about everything and anything, from his family — an older sister and two parents in Gyeonggi-do — to his grumpy roommate — Minseok. Chanyeol’s so open — too open, really. Each little story gives him more insight into how Chanyeol ended up where he is, how Chanyeol sees the world..  
  
By the time the meat is gone, and Baekhyun is relaxed, Chanyeol’s hand is resting on his thigh. Baekhyun can’t really remember when it got there, but he doesn’t mind. It’s exciting, and also new to see Chanyeol so forward with him.  
  
Unlike Chanyeol, he can’t just reveal his entire life history with a smile and a shrug of the shoulders. He’s spent too many years putting up walls to be so frank about his own feelings towards everything.  
  
He can, however, counter Chanyeol’s touches with a few of his own; fixing Chanyeol’s hair as they’re standing up to leave, and tsk-ing when his fingers get caught in a tangle.  
  
“You know...” Baekhyun pulls his hand away and watches the way Chanyeol almost instinctively leans in to follow it. “The orange hair isn’t so bad.”  
  
“I thought you wanted it to be red?”  
  
“It seems that with the charming smile and a camera in your hands, you _almost_ manage to make hipster chic and orange hair look good.”  
  
  
Once they’re out on the street again, the sun has completely set. Chanyeol turns to Baekhyun and shuffles in place. Baekhyun breathes in and out, slowly, and lets Chanyeol take his time looking him over for a moment, searching for _something_ with those round eyes of his before he speaks.  
  
“So, that Oh Sehun guy. He was… young compared to you,” Chanyeol finally says. It’s not a question, but it feels like one.  
  
“I thought you said I don’t look old?”  
  
“Doesn’t mean you aren’t thirty-two though, hyung.” Chanyeol takes a step closer, his voice dipping lower in a quiet question. “But you’re like, okay? With younger men?”  
  
“I’m out with you now, aren’t I?”  
  
“Are you… interested in me?” Chanyeol has to know what he’s doing with that voice of his, dipping it lower in the final syllables before biting down on his lower lip.  
  
“Interested in you? In your art?” Baekhyun teases, wanting to hear Chanyeol speak in that low register a bit more. Chanyeol’s eyes dart back up from where they were focused on Baekhyun’s lips to look him properly in the eyes.  
  
“No, not like that. Like the way you were interested in Sehun.”  
  
“Yes,” Baekhyun says with confidence. He likes that Chanyeol is bold enough to ask. It saves him some of the nuance that generally goes into courtship. “Are you interested in me?”  
  
A simple “Yes,” from Chanyeol is all the confirmation Baekhyun needs to ask the question he’s been wanting to ask all evening.  
  
“Let’s get out of here, then?”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
  
  
  
  
Baekhyun’s apartment is dark, and Chanyeol’s lips are eager once Baekhyun finally leans in to kiss him. Their shoes are only half toed off, and that fluffy scarf is still wrapped around Chanyeol’s neck — but it doesn’t stop Baekhyun from reaching up to trace his fingers along Chanyeol’s nape, to draw him closer. The taste of beer lingers on his lips, and it’s nicer than it should be. Maybe it’s because Chanyeol’s lips are even more plump than he’d imagined them being each time he watched Chanyeol roll them between his teeth.  
  
He’s been thinking about this moment for too many weeks now for his hands to stay idle, for him to take his time undressing Chanyeol. Even in the rush, he can appreciate the way Chanyeol keens into his touch, and the way Chanyeol’s hands draw him closer by the hip.  
  
Chanyeol kisses much like he talks, confident one moment and more hesitantly the next. He nips around Baekhyun’s neck, trying to figure out which spots produce the best reaction — he lets himself be pushed in the direction of the bedroom as soon as Baekhyun manages to work them both out of their coats.  
  
“Let me take care of you?” Baekhyun breathes against Chanyeol’s lips once he’s hovering over him on the bed, fingers already working to push the fabric of Chanyeol’s t-shirt up.  
  
He half expects a snarky comment back, some biting remark on how he doesn’t need to be taken care of.  
  
Instead what comes out is a quiet, “Yeah.”  
  
Chanyeol, always so eloquent with words, with art. Yet all he can mumble out in a moment like this is ‘yeah’ and an eager nod of his head. Baekhyun swallows the single syllable, presses closer to Chanyeol as his hands begin to undo the buttons of his shirt.  
  
Chanyeol’s hands fumble on Baekhyun’s belt, against his waist, like he’s not quite sure where to put them, where they fit best.  
  
“You’ve done this before, right?” Baekhyun pulls his own shirt over his head before pushing Chanyeol to lay down.  
  
Chanyeol gives him an incredulous look that contradicts the flush of his cheeks. “Hyung, I’m twenty-three, not nineteen. I’ve definitely done this before.”  
  
“Just making sure.” Baekhyun’s hands trace along the subtle definition of Chanyeol’s abdomen, his thighs spread over Chanyeol’s hips.  
  
“Why? You have some kind of blushing virgin kink?” Chanyeol questions, his palm boldly reaching forward to trace along the bulge in Baekhyun’s pants.  
  
“No.” Baekhyun lets out a raspy exhale. It feels good, the way Chanyeol touches him with gaining confidence. “Definitely not.”  
  
“What do you like then?” Chanyeol’s fingers move to undo the buttons of Baekhyun’s pants.  
  
Baekhyun’s not used to being asked like this, so forward, with so much genuine curiosity. Chanyeol wants to know, because Chanyeol wants to please him. It’s foreign, but so so tempting.  
  
“You,” he says coyly before bending down to kiss along the expanse of skin his fingers had just touched. He revels in the weak gasp Chanyeol lets escape as Baekhyun traces his tongue over a nipple.  
  
Chanyeol is handsy. He reaches out to touch at every opportunity, rolls Baekhyun over so that he’s the one now kissing down his torso, trying to figure out which places make Baekhyun giggle versus those that make him moan.  
  
“The abs are nice.” Chanyeol’s tongue dips in Baekhyun’s belly button and it makes him squirm. “With your hips, it’s just… wow.”  
  
Chanyeol shows his appreciation by kissing along each dip of muscle, his hands kneading the curves of Baekhyun’s hips. It’s too much stimulation for Baekhyun to contemplate all at once.  
  
When Chanyeol slides down further, pulling Baekhyun’s underwear down with him, Baekhyun finally gets to see — gets to _feel_ — Chanyeol’s plump lips wrapped around his cock. Praises fall from his lips, and they only encourage Chanyeol all the more, his hand joins his mouth, massaging the base in tandem with the bobbing of his head.  
  
It’s so _so_ good, but Baekhyun wants more. He wants to feel Chanyeol, too. So, he runs his hands through Chanyeol’s hair one last time, lets him lick along the head, before he tugs him up gently. Chanyeol understands the command easy enough, his lips wet and swollen as he pushes himself up to kiss Baekhyun again.  
  
He’s good with his tongue, whether it’s licking up the length of Baekhyun’s dick, or brushing along the roof of Baekhyun’s mouth. The more Baekhyun groans in his throat, the more hungrily Chanyeol kisses him. So easily riled up, so easily encouraged.  
  
Baekhyun feels how hard Chanyeol’s dick is when he moves to roll them over and it brushes against his thigh. The warmth between their bodies invigorates Baekhyun — it’s been far too long since he’s had someone splayed out below him like this, panting and wanting. _Needy_ with quiet moans of “hyung please.”  
  
“Do you need prep?” Baekhyun tries to ground his thoughts as he reaches for the lube.  
  
He doesn’t want to hurt Chanyeol, no matter how eager he is to finally be inside of him — to fuck him exactly the way he’s imagined it. He wants to see Chanyeol fall apart, wants to know if he bites his lip when he’s coming undone, and if his cheeks can flush even deeper with praise. But to get him there, he has to take care of Chanyeol properly.  
  
“Just a little.” Chanyeol’s breathing is labored. “Want to… want to feel you.”  
  
Baekhyun takes the time to appreciate Chanyeol’s long legs. He kisses along the length of his calf before propping it on his shoulder as he slides his knees under Chanyeol’s ass.  
  
With lube on his fingers, Baekhyun rubs against Chanyeol’s rim — testing his reactions. Chanyeol responds to each brush of Baekhyun’s fingertips, the need seeping through with an arch of his back before Baekhyun finally pushes a finger inside.  
  
He eases Chanyeol through the first finger until Chanyeol’s relaxed enough for the second. All the while, Baekhyun catalogues each of Chanyeol’s moans — the way his mouth forms syllables of words that are never fully manifested. The way his hips push down impatiently for more.  
  
Praises are Baekhyun’s specialty, and he provides them readily as he works Chanyeol up. He likes the blush of his cheeks, the timbre of his groans. He wants Chanyeol to know all of it as he slides a condom and lube over his himself; telling Chanyeol he can’t wait to feel him around his dick, how lovely Chanyeol looks against his sheets when he finally slides into him.  
  
“Move, please.”  
  
The request is half out of Chanyeol’s mouth before Baekhyun does just that. He thrusts into him, Chanyeol’s calf still hanging on his shoulder. Chanyeol is warm, inviting and so responsive as his hands grip for purchase in the sheets, on Baekhyun’s arms. So much so, that Baekhyun loses himself for a moment. His eyes scrunch shut and all he can feel is Chanyeol. It’s too early to be as close as he is.  
  
Baekhyun’s used to setting the pace, to getting his feel. But the more he watches Chanyeol beneath him, the more he wants to see what Chanyeol likes — figure out what happens when he concedes a little bit of control.  
  
“Ride me?” Baekhyun suggests, pulling out of Chanyeol in the next moment and letting his leg drop from Baekhyun’s shoulder. Chanyeol’s eyes flash with excitement as he watches Baekhyun lay down against the pillows.  
  
“Yeah,” Chanyeol nods. He already looks so spent, nerves returning to his features as he sits up and looks over Baekhyun. He brushes a hand along Baekhyun’s abdominal muscles, feels them flex beneath him, before it trails down fuller.  
  
Chanyeol bites his lip as he slides down on Baekhyun’s cock. Baekhyun wants to angle his body up, take that same lip between his teeth, but it feels too good having Chanyeol’s weight resting on his hips like his — palms splayed out against Baekhyun’s abdomen — to move just yet.  
  
Baekhyun gives Chanyeol time to set his own rhythm, raising his body up just a little before dropping down again. Baekhyun can feel the excess lube on his thigh with each slide of Chanyeol’s body, feel the way his fingers dig into his pectorals a little deeper with each bounce.  
  
It’s messy, Chanyeol’s rhythm inconsistent, his mumbles of Baekhyun’s name almost incoherent. He only last so long before Baekhyun is the one thrusting up into Chanyeol. It’s now Baekhyun holding Chanyeol’s weight through their linked palms, watching Chanyeol’s body fall into his hips.  
  
Chanyeol’s coming undone, his hips barely able to keep up with Baekhyun’s thrusts, his mind obviously lost. Eventually, he falls forward with a cry and a scrunch of his eyebrows, and catches himself with his arms on either side of of Baekhyun’s head.  
  
“So good, Chanyeol. So good.”  
  
Baekhyun can tell Chanyeol’s close, he can see it in the furrow of his brow and the way Chanyeol’s lips mouth at silent syllables. Baekhyun pulls him down to kiss him. Sloppily hungrily, and Chanyeol kisses back to the best of his ability until he stills above Baekhyun. The noises Chanyeol releases, so needy, so deep, push Baekhyun to thrust upward with more force.  
  
“Just hold on a moment longer,” Baekhyun breathes against Chanyeol’s lips, reaching a hand down to stroke him.  
  
The muscles in Baekhyun’s abdomen and thighs clench impossibly tight when Chanyeol licks into his mouth. Three more thrusts, and he’s coming into the condom. Chanyeol follows soon after, cum landing on Baekhyun’s abdomen in warm spurts before Chanyeol’s weight falls into him fully.  
  
Chanyeol’s breaths are warm against Baekhyun’s neck. He reaches a hand up to stroke through Chanyeol’s sweat slicked hair.  
  
“You were so good,” Baekhyun whispers into his ear, and even in Chanyeol’s boneless state, his body still shudders.  
  
Baekhyun’s just as spent, just as satisfied, but he takes the lead to clean them up anyway, rolling Chanyeol off his chest and unsheathing himself. He half asses the clean-up — only a few tissues across his abdomen and the inside of Chanyeol’s thighs — because he’s eager to collapse back next to Chanyeol and run his fingers along the dip of his spine as Chanyeol drifts off to sleep. He wants to bask in the afterglow as much as possible before sleep overtakes him.  
  
Chanyeol keens into Baekhyun’s touch as much as he can, still face down in the mattress. He turns his head to smile sloppily at Baekhyun once he’s laying down beside him.  
  
“Thanks for taking care of me, hyung.”

 

 

[ Continue to chapter 2 ]


	2. Terms and Conditions

[Part 2: Terms and Conditions]  
  
Chanyeol looks different in the morning; with his eyes half-open, and his hair messily strewn atop Baekhyun’s pillow. There’s crust in the corner of his lips, where small snores escape intermittently. He looks exactly like the young college student Baekhyun knows he is, tired and burnt out but also satiated and so, so comfortable.  
  
Baekhyun’s eyes trail the tanned skin of his exposed shoulder, all the way down the firm dip of his spine until it disappears beneath the sheet. He wants to trace the same line of skin — see if Chanyeol still shivers under his touch like this — but he doesn’t want to wake Chanyeol.  
  
He sneaks out of bed, doing his best not to disturb Chanyeol as he throws on a shirt and pads off to the kitchen. He’d forgotten to turn the floor heating on last night, and the cool hardwood floor makes him shiver in place.  
  
It’s Sunday, so he can take his time tip toeing over the discarded clothing that still lays crumpled on the floor of the living room. He’ll clean it up later. For now, he’ll let it stand as a testament that last night happened, like a little temporary trophy he can keep to himself.  
  
The quiet Sunday morning calm is disturbed by the sputtering to life of the coffee pot while Baekhyun digs his phone out of his coat pocket. He’s not surprised in the least to see a dozen texts from Jongdae, each getting more lewd in his speculations of how his outing with Chanyeol had gone the night before.  
  
It’s a text message in the middle of the bunch that throws him off, forces him to catch his balance against the marble counter.  
  
**From: Sehun**  
It was good to see you last week, hyung.  
  
There’s no ‘ _let’s meet up again soon_ ’ or ‘ _I’ve missed you_ ,’ not that Baekhyun’s really expecting it. The scent of brewing coffee wafts through the air, and a bitter taste lingers in Baekhyun’s throat.  
  
“G’morning.”  
  
Baekhyun locks his phone screen quickly, looking up to see a sleepy, boxer-clad Chanyeol standing in the open entryway to the kitchen. His voice dips even lower with sleepiness, and the same orange hairs that were splayed across Baekhyun’s pillow moments before now stick up wildly in all directions.  
  
“Morning.” Baekhyun smiles, maybe a little too fond. “Did I wake you?”  
  
Chanyeol scratches the back of his head. His already round eyes look even bigger like this, heavy with sleep. A lazy grin stretches across his lips.  
  
“The coffee pot did, actually.”  
  
Baekhyun chuckles and pats the machine affectionately.  
  
“I, uh.” Chanyeol hesitates for a moment before entering the kitchen with tentative steps. “I like your apartment. I didn’t exactly get a good look at it last night.”  
  
“I suppose you wouldn’t have.” Baekhyun laughs, taking in the half smirk on Chanyeol’s lips. “Want breakfast?”  
  
“Sure.”  
  
Baekhyun expects Chanyeol to take a seat at the kitchen island. Instead, he remains standing, taking his time looking around, peeking his head out into the living room. Baekhyun really doesn’t mind, so he turns his attention to pulling some eggs from the fridge and switching the rice cooker on.  
  
“I was half expecting your place to be some renovated loft or something. Not your standard high rise luxury apartment,” Chanyeol observes as he wanders into the living room. His voice carries, even when he’s speaking at a normal volume.  
  
“Why’s that?” Baekhyun asks. The coffee pot has quieted down now, no need to shout over it.  
  
“You seem like the fixer upper type.” Baekhyun looks over his shoulder to see Chanyeol bent over in front of his bookshelf, taking in the limited family photos he has on display. “I dunno, like you’d move into an up-and-coming older neighborhood just to be ahead of the trends or something.”  
  
Baekhyun likes Chanyeol’s early morning candor, and appreciates the observations that fall from his lips without hesitation. It’s somewhat flattering, too, the idea that Chanyeol has been thinking about things like this. Been thinking about Baekhyun. The sound of Chanyeol’s feet dragging across his hard wood floors as he explores the living room also rings pleasantly in his ears.  
  
“Trendy older neighborhoods are for hipsters. I am a professional adult….” Baekhyun breaks an egg into the pan.  
  
“A professional adult who hangs out in trendy coffee shops and prowls on younger men…” Chanyeol’s voice is a lot closer this time, deep with innuendo and without any real judgement. “Who’s always looking for hidden gems…”  
  
“That too.” Baekhyun turns to see Chanyeol smirking, his back leaning against the kitchen island, arms crossed over his chest. “But, I’m pretty good at finding passion projects on my own. Don’t need to renovate an ancient apartment to get my fix.”  
  
“Yeah?” Chanyeol quirks an eyebrow, tone playful. “Found your newest one yet?”  
  
Baekhyun scans Chanyeol up and down pointedly.  
  
“You could say that.” Baekhyun winks before turning his attention back to the stove.  
  
  
  
Breakfast is a simple egg on rice, nothing fancy because Baekhyun can’t really _do_ fancy. Chanyeol eats it with a pleased grin on his face as his feet tap against the tile of the kitchen floor, all the same.  
  
They’re both still waking up, speaking only when thoughts hit them. Really, Baekhyun’s thoughts are mostly occupied with the night previous. He looks across at Chanyeol — who’s still wearing only his boxers — and can’t stop his mind from replaying the expressions on Chanyeol’s face the evening before, wondering when he’ll have the opportunity to see them again.  
  
“So how does this work?” Chanyeol sets down his chopsticks once he catches Baekhyun’s ogling.  
  
“How does what work?”  
  
“This, _arrangement._ ” Chanyeol almost whispers the word.  
  
“Arrangement?” Baekhyun echoes, mouth still full of rice. Where did Chanyeol get that word from?  
  
“Jongdae told me you don’t really… do relationships.”  
  
Baekhyun can only roll his eyes as he swallows. “Jongdae is too chatty for his own good.”  
  
He realizes that maybe that indescribable look in Chanyeol’s eyes at the gallery had been the moment Chanyeol understood everything — when he put the pieces of Jongdae’s gossip and the way Sehun looked at him together. Perhaps Chanyeol’s known all along, and was just waiting for Baekhyun to make the move.  
  
“But you said you were interested in me. I’ve learned enough about you to know that your ‘passion projects’ tend to involve people. So I’m wondering if I’m —“  
  
“— My next project?” Baekhyun cuts in before Chanyeol can say any more. It doesn’t feel right, the doubt and uncertainty as Chanyeol mumbles to himself.  
  
Chanyeol bites his lip, embarrassed. “Yeah, kind of.”  
  
“I _am_ interested in you,” Baekhyun states plainly. He’s interested why Chanyeol’s cheeks flush so easily with praise, curious as to what makes him tick; his art. “And Jongdae’s right, conventional relationships aren’t my specialty. But I like you, I want to help you.”  
  
“Help me, how?”  
  
Baekhyun is a collector, a collector of pretty things. He sees the untapped potential in Chanyeol — the value he can accrue with effort, the advantages he can reap from the young potential. There might be something else in there, but Jongdae’s already made the situation pretty clear for Chanyeol and there’s no reason to tread out of familiar territory. He knows what he’s doing in situations like this.  
  
“Like Joonmyun, I have a lot of connections. I could help introduce you to the right people, help you network. I didn’t buy your photograph just because I was propositioning you, I really see something in your art.” He sees something he’s never been able to capture in his own work, a natural way of seeing people that he’s almost envious of. “I want to help you share it. I want to get to know the artist behind it, too.”  
  
Chanyeol ponders over Baekhyun’s words for a moment. “So like, a mentorship?”  
  
“I guess you could see it that way.”  
  
“But sex is on the table?”  
  
Baekhyun almost chokes into his coffee, but manages to throw Chanyeol an incredulous look. “Sex is definitely on the table.”  
  
Chanyeol smiles all too excitedly at the confirmation. “Okay, I think I can work with that.”  
  
“Is that your way of agreeing?” Baekhyun needs to be sure. He can’t promise Chanyeol a relationship with romance and flowers. Jongdae’s right, he wouldn’t know how to. He can however, promise to place him in good company, to buy him a new suit and teach him how to interact with the right people.  
  
“Yeah. I’m curious, you know?” Chanyeol leans back in his chair. “Attractive guy like you, connections, plus sex? Really doesn’t sound that bad to me.”  
  
Baekhyun can’t help but smile into a laugh. “You say that now.”  
  
Chanyeol wiggles his eyebrows from across the island, and looks up at Baekhyun through his lashes. It’s not a subtle, nor as smooth as he intends, but it’s definitely endearing. Youthful and inexperienced, but so genuine.  
  
It’s enough to make Baekhyun rise from his seat and move around the island to stand directly in front of Chanyeol — whose eyes follow him the entire way, curious, and maybe a little apprehensive, but utterly fascinated. With Chanyeol still seated, they’re eye level. It’s easy for Baekhyun to reach forward and trace his hand along Chanyeol’s jaw, appreciating the way his eyes flutter but never leave Baekhyun’s own.  
  
“I’ll take good care of you,” he promises quietly.  
  
Chanyeol kisses him for the first time that morning, his hands already playing along the hem of Baekhyun’s boxers, and Baekhyun hopes he can keep him around for a while.  
  
  
  
  


  


* * *

  
  
  
  
  
  
“... Joonmyun’s off getting his kicks, and I’m forced to stay in this cafe.”  
  
“You _love_ this cafe…”  
  
Joonmyun is running late, as always. He’d taken Chanyeol to some multimedia exhibition hosted by a partner gallery before they agreed to meet up. Jongdae’s running with the opportunity to whine, because Joonmyun isn’t around to stop him and it’s his favorite pastime. Baekhyun laughs along because he knows Jongdae doesn’t really mean any of it.  
  
“Not the point. My point is, I’m being replaced by a lanky twenty-three year old college student!”  
  
He never did respond to Jongdae’s series of texts on Sunday, leaving it to Jongdae to fill in the details. He’s also still a little put off about the comment Jongdae had made to Chanyeol, though he’s not quite sure why it irks him so much. Jongdae hadn’t said anything that isn’t true.  
  
Baekhyun’s not like Joonmyun and Jongdae who fell into one another and spent their twenties shaping their lives together. He’d spent that same time working, trying to be better, and trying to succeed. He knows how to _fix_ things, how to take someone under his wing and shape them before watching them move on.  
  
He doesn’t know how to _keep_ someone.  
  
“Now, you _know_ that’s ridiculous. Why would Joonmyun need a hot twenty-three year old, when he has you? You act like more of a college student than Chanyeol does half the time anyway. Wait… I kind of see your point now…” Baekhyun enjoys watching Jongdae’s eyes curve into a glare.  
  
“Stop giving him ideas, Baekhyun,” Joonmyun voices in from over Baekhyun’s shoulder, startling him.  
  
“Hey, babe.” Jongdae’s mood instantly brightens as he winks at Joonmyun.  
  
“I take it you missed me?” Joonmyun asks as he leans on the counter. Chanyeol trails in behind Joonmyun, throwing a secretive smile at Baekhyun as soon as he spots him.  
  
“Nah, just annoying Baekhyun. Have fun with Chanyeol?”  
  
Joonmyun gives Jongdae some sort of answer, but Baekhyun completely misses it because he’s too busy staring at Chanyeol — who’s practically beaming at him. The smile isn’t really what has Baekhyun’s attention right now, though. Somewhere in the two days since Sunday, Chanyeol’s hair has changed from orange to bright, bright _red_. Baekhyun had been right, it looks good. Too good, when combined with the fact that he can now clearly imagine running his fingers through it, and the way it will look against the white of his pillows.  
  
Chanyeol takes Joonmyun and Jongdae’s distraction with one another — and Baekhyun’s practically gaping mouth — as an opportunity to lean in and whisper in Baekhyun’s ear.  
  
“Did I just hear you call me ‘hot’?”  
  
_Yes_. Baekhyun’s still a little stupefied by the change, and Chanyeol’s smug smile makes it all the harder to put together a coherent thought. He’s so close, red hair framing his face, and Baekhyun wants nothing more than to angle his chin up just a few centimeters more and kiss him just like he had in his kitchen two days ago.  
  
Jongdae’s loud cough interrupts Baekhyun’s thoughts before he’s able to act on them. Even with both their attention, Chanyeol doesn’t attempt to move away from Baekhyun. He feels a hand running along the small of his back, trailing down the dip of his spine through his jacket.  
  
“So is this like, _a thing_ now?” Jongdae asks, pointing a finger between the two of them.  
  
“Something like that.” Chanyeol shrugs just as his hand squeezes Baekhyun’s hip.  
  
  
  
With the group assembled — and a few not so subtle winks from Jongdae — they leave the fancy international restaurants of Ikseon-dong behind in favor of the _pocha_ that line the road between exits 3 and 6 of Jongno 3-ga. Baekhyun prefers the accepting atmosphere of Jongno to Itaewon. Joonmyun can hold Jongdae’s hand in his coat pocket, and passers-by barely bat an eyelash. It’s the quiet kind of acceptance that brings comfort.  
  
And now, he has Chanyeol, too. Chanyeol who seems unable to keep his hands off Baekhyun as soon as they’re within meters of each other. Baekhyun doesn’t mind in the least, leaning into the touch, wrapping his own arm around Chanyeol’s waist for the short walk.  
  
Baekhyun’s eyes follow the way Jongdae reaches to wrap his arm around Joonmyun once they’re seated. Chanyeol must notice Baekhyun’s watching, because a second later, there’s a confident hand on Baekhyun’s thigh.  
  
It’s a couple drinks in when Baekhyun finally asks Joonmyun and Jongdae if they’re willing to be interviewed for the upcoming segment. It only takes some minor sucking up to Jongdae — and several promises that he can talk extensively about the history of the neighborhood — before his friend agrees.  
  
“I don’t know.” Joonmyun still isn’t convinced. He’s much more reluctant than Jongdae to agree just for some exposure and the opportunity to talk on screen. “I don’t want to come off as the bad guy.”  
  
“I’m just going to present both sides,” Baekhyun defends. “There’s no good guys, or bad guys. There’s the people to advocate for change, and those who don’t want to see something change.”  
  
“But the young ones who want change are automatically the bad guys.”  
  
“Not when they’re helping young artists, and are a huge benefactor of the neighborhood’s preservation society,” Baekhyun points out, keeping any snide comments about Joonmyun’s age at bay because he’s going for _flattery_. Joonmyun and Jongdae’s combined credentials alone are enough to make clear they aren’t just some entrepreneurs looking to make a quick buck by renovating a historic neighborhood. “You and Jongdae are perfect advocates for how the renovation of Ikseon-dong is benefitting the neighborhood, keeping it alive.”  
  
“Baekhyun’s right,” Jongdae voices with a full mouth. “We should tell our side. We can’t convince everyone, but it’s an opportunity to share our motives, prove that they aren’t rooted in greed.”  
  
Baekhyun can feel Chanyeol’s eyes on him the entire exchange. At first, he looks on with amusement when Jongdae makes Baekhyun jump through groveling hoops to get his agreement. His gaze turns more questioning, though, when Baekhyun admits that his and Chanyeol’s mini argument a few weeks ago in Hongdae made him want to revisit the story — to show both sides this time.  
  
By the third bottle of soju, the food is gone, and Baekhyun has secured both Joonmyun and Jongdae’s consent to appear on camera. It’s a weight off his shoulders that is only heightened by the fact that Chanyeol’s hand has begun to make it’s way up his thigh.  
  
  
  
  


  


* * *

  
  
  
  
  
  
“Siwon, have you double checked the mics? I don’t want to have to re-film something because the levels aren’t correct again.”  
  
Baekhyun knows the routine of filming days like the back of his hand. That doesn’t mean they don’t come without stress. Especially when most of the shots are filmed outdoors, where he has to factor in background noise, random pedestrians, and the weather.  
  
While Baekhyun’s busy checking in with the crew, instructing them on the various locations they need to shoot, Jongdae is running around Gomok like a chicken with his head cut off. This will be the cafe’s big debut, and he wants everything in order. It’s almost comical, especially because Joonmyun — the bigger control freak out of the two of them — is standing on the sidelines casually watching Jongdae progressively lose his mind like it’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen.  
  
Baekhyun doesn’t expect to step outside to escape Jongdae’s minor panic attack and see a familiar figure leaning against the wall.  
  
“What are you doing here?” Baekhyun’s not put off by Chanyeol’s sudden appearance, just surprised. He’s brought his full camera pack today, the padded case hangs off his shoulder, maybe he’s planning on shooting around the neighborhood.  
  
“Jongdae told me you were filming today, said I should come by. Is that… okay?”  
  
“It’s more than okay.” Baekhyun huddles a little closer to confirm the fact. He has no objections with seeing Chanyeol looking incredibly handsome in his wool coat and a nervous smile. “I just wasn’t expecting to see you here.”  
  
“I’m curious to see you working.” Chanyeol’s scent crowds Baekhyun’s nose once he’s close enough. It’s more soothing than the fall air around them, infinitely more pleasant that the smell of Seoul’s pollution.  
  
“Yeah?” Chanyeol’s always so curious. Baekhyun can’t figure out why so much of his curiosity is rooted in him, though. It’s another little piece of Chanyeol he’ll have to try to figure out, bit by bit.  
  
“You said you’re different at work, remember? Plus, I want to see your take on the whole Ikseon-dong development thing.”  
  
“Well, you’re more than welcome to hang around. Just don’t get in the way of the shots, and we should be all good.”  
  
“You don’t think I’d look good on camera?” Chanyeol teases. He leans a little closer, and even if Chanyeol is the one trapped against the wall in their position, it feels like Baekhyun is the one who’s being crowded.  
  
“I think you’d look great on camera, but the audience might be distracted by your bright red hair lurking in the background of the shots.” His fingers automatically reach up to comb through the hair and push it out of Chanyeol’s face. Chanyeol leans into the touch, eyelashes fluttering shut.  
  
“I really want to kiss you right now,” Chanyeol whispers once he opens his eyes.  
  
A cough disrupts the moment, probably for the best.  
  
“Later,” Baekhyun promises. This isn’t the place, even if he wants exactly the same thing. For now, he’ll have to let his eyes trail the shape of Chanyeol’s lips and imagine how warm they’d feel pressed against his own in the cool fall air.  
  
“Uh boss, everything is set to go. Do you need another minute?” Siwon’s eyes dart between Chanyeol and Baekhyun.  
  
“No, no.” Baekhyun withdraws his hand, throwing Chanyeol one last meaningful smile. “Let’s get started.”  
  
  
  
  
Thankfully for Baekhyun, the chill makes the neighborhood a little quieter on a Thursday afternoon. The lack of crowds makes it easier to fit his crew and all their equipment in the narrow walkways between the _hanok_ of Ikseon-dong.  
  
Baekhyun, with his clipboard and headphones, feels in control as he points out shots down the narrow rows of the _hanok_ village. He knows the neighborhood so well at this point, and knows exactly how it wants it filmed in the segment.  
  
Some buildings lay abandoned, wood molding and paint chipping from the exterior walls. While others, like Jongdae’s Gomok have been restored and converted into trendy businesses. In the afternoon, couples mill about the neighborhood — cameras around their necks, hand in hand — taking in the somewhat romantic contrast of traditional and modern that makes up Ikseon-dong.  
  
While Baekhyun’s busy moving from location to location, Chanyeol hangs around the periphery, watching the scene intently. He smiles the entire time Sooyoung interviews Joonmyun and Jongdae, his camera lens shuttering quietly in the background. Baekhyun wonders if Chanyeol notices it’s _his_ photographs that are getting exposure on the walls behind the couple — a little touch he’d thought to add when filming the interior of Gomok.  
  
Two hours later, and Baekhyun sends the crew home with all the usual compliments. The sun had set before they’d had a chance to really explore the older part of the neighborhood, so they’ll have to return tomorrow. For today though, they’ve achieved everything Baekhyun set out to do, and it’s enough to make him heave a huge sigh of relief as he takes a seat across from Chanyeol in the far corner of Gomok.  
  
“So, what do you think?”  
  
“Is it weird that I think you look really hot when you’re bossing people around like that? Your face gets all stern.” Chanyeol chuckles, trying to imitate the expression. “And I dunno, it’s a good look on you.”  
  
“Yeah?” Baekhyun cocks his head to the side. Funny how he’s the one being complimented, but Chanyeol is the one who sounds nervous.  
  
“Yeah. You looked so professional and in control, like Joonmyun hyung when he bosses people around the gallery.”  
  
Baekhyun really can’t resist the opportunity to tease Chanyeol. “So, Joonmyun running his gallery also turns you on?”  
  
“No!” Chanyeol quickly back steps, his ears reddening as he blanches and flails his arms. “It’s different with you. I’ve never seen Joonmyun naked.”  
  
“And you _never_ will.”  
  
Jongdae’s sudden intrusion of the conversation makes Chanyeol jump in his seat, and it’s kind of adorable. Jongdae is petite, but feisty, and Chanyeol has every right to be a little terrified, especially with Jongdae looming over him.  
  
Thankfully, Jongdae doesn’t think anything of the comment, and changes the subject in his next breath.  
  
“Now that the crew’s gone, wanna go grab dinner at Secret Garden? I could use a few drinks after all that pretentious art conversation.”  
  
Baekhyun looks to Chanyeol. “You up for it?”  
  
“Yeah, yeah.” Chanyeol pushes the back of his palms against his cheeks, trying to force the lingering blush away as he agrees. “Sounds good. I’ve planning to take some pictures of Jongno anyway.”  
  
“Cool, let me go grab Joonmyun.”  
  
  
  
It’s only a Thursday night, but the Jongno area is _always_ bursting with life; a mix of the old and new, the neighborhood changing from block to block as it’s slowly growing beyond being a hidden nightlife gem and becoming a must-visit neighborhood for anyone looking for good food and plentiful bars. Unlike the rest of up-and-coming-Seoul though, Jongno 3-ga isn’t falling victim to the same cookie cutter marble buildings and chain coffee shops. It’s holding it’s own, developing on it’s own terms.  
  
Evening has completely fallen as they take their plastic stools in Secret Garden. The owner instantly makes room for them as soon as he recognizes their faces. Joonmyun doesn’t waste a second, ordering beer and soju for the whole table with an empathetic wink to Baekhyun. He knows how much filming days generally stress Baekhyun out. Today had been different though, more comfortable and familiar to him. Maybe Chanyeol’s encouraging smiles had something to do with that.  
  
“I’d say that today went well,” Jongdae comments once they’re seated.  
  
“We really could have done without you touching Joonmyun’s ass the entire interview, though.”  
  
“It was out of the frame, so I don’t see the problem. If I have to be labeled as Joonmyun’s ‘Business Partner’ in the segment, it’s the least I could do.” Jongdae, always rebellious in his own, inappropriate way: it’s one of the things Baekhyun loves most about him.  
  
There’s no need for small heaters in the corner, as the tent is more than packed enough to keep the space warm as the cook prepares orders upon orders of chicken gizzards and eel. From the grease and aroma in the air alone, Baekhyun can already taste the food on his tongue, and his mouth waters.  
  
“Joonmyun hyung kind of looked like he was constipated the whole time.” Chanyeol butts in, only catching himself after the words have slipped out and Joonmyun is glaring at him across the table.  
  
Baekhyun points his chopsticks at Chanyeol. “That’s his sexually frustrated face, and you’d do well to block it from your memory forever.”  
  
“Noted.” Chanyeol turns his attention to the camera around his neck, quickly turning it on to capture the way that Jongdae snickers at Joonmyun’s expense. He’s been snapping pictures all day, and Baekhyun wonders when — if — he’ll get to see them tonight.  
  
The tent is loud, and Baekhyun already knows his vocal chords will be sore tomorrow from shouting over the other drunk patrons. But, he deserves this after a long day of filming. He’s earned a night out with friends in a comfortable food tent, he wants the alcohol that arrives on their table with a _clunk_ not thirty seconds after they’ve sat down.  
  
“I know that you run Gomok, Jongdae hyung, but is there anything else you do? Like art-wise?”  
  
Baekhyun laughs into his beer. “Jongdae studied Art History. And now, he’s a self-labeled tinkerer.”  
  
“What does that mean?”  
  
“It means he spends too much time on Pinterest, that’s what.”  
  
“Shut up, Baekhyun,” Jongdae says without any bite. He turns his attention back to Chanyeol. “I just like playing with things, figuring out how they work.”  
  
Chanyeol doesn’t feign interest when he prompts Jongdae to continue. “Anything you’re working on now?”  
  
“I bought an antique clock a couple weeks ago, right now I’m trying to make it work again.” Jongdae beams at the attention.  
  
That explains the random springs and bolts scattered across the back counter of Gomok.  
  
Maybe he’s looking for an excuse to sit a little closer to Chanyeol when he leans in to whisper, “Jongdae likes old things… like Joonmyun.”  
  
“Hey! I heard that!”  
  
“But, antique clocks is easily the most boring hobby you’ve had yet, Jongdae.”  
  
“I think it’s interesting,” Joonmyun pipes in, tightening his hand around Jongdae’s shoulder.  
  
“I’m pretty sure if Jongdae showed you ice melting you would say it was interesting,” Baekhyun points out with a tip of his beer glass.  
  
Joonmyun considers it for a moment. “It all depends on presentation, really.”  
  
Baekhyun barks out a laugh, not expecting Joonmyun to take his suggestion seriously. “You’re such a pretentious art snob sometimes, Joonmyun.”  
  
They tease each other like this because they can, because they’re friends. When they were in their twenties, wild and generally intoxicated, they’d all had different pictures for their future. Now, in their thirties, they’ve all watched each other fail once or twice. They can look back with fondness at all of their youthful dreams that didn’t quite pan out, and tease each other about how the professionalism they once mocked has become the foundation of their adult lives — about how Jongdae spends his free time taking apart clocks, and Joonmyun feels like a bow tie is a necessary accessory to every suit.  
  
“Not to sound pessimistic or anything, Chanyeol, but working in a coffee shop and tinkering with antiques is kind of what happens when you get a degree in Art History.” Jongdae leans back in his seat. “But I like it. I like that we restored Gomok and have created a space where we can help artists like you get a head start in exhibiting.”  
  
“And _I’m_ really thankful for that, hyung.” Chanyeol’s head dips in gratitude and Baekhyun can’t help but run a comforting hand along his thigh.  
  
“You’ve already thanked us enough, Chanyeol.” Jongdae waves a hand dismissively. “Now, we either need to order more drinks or move on to a bar. I’m in the mood for _noraebang_ tonight, but we all know Joonmyun won’t sing me any cheesy ballads until we put about three more shots in his system.”  
  
  
  
  
Chanyeol’s voice is too perfect for rock ballads, deep and raspy on the low notes in a way that stirs Baekhyun’s gut. Despite the good company, almost as soon as Chanyeol starts singing into the mic, Baekhyun can think of nothing else other than ways to get him out of the _noraebang_ and into his bed.  
  
The thoughts of all the other ways he could be putting Chanyeol’s plump lips to use are so distracting that Baekhyun can barely appreciate the hilarity of Joonmyun finally serenading Jongdae with an emotional ballad that’s completely out of his vocal range. Jongdae’s tearing up on the couch as he watches his partner; half because Joonmyun’s voice is too squeaky in falsetto and half because he’s a giant sap and Joonmyun’s vocals are nothing but earnest.  
  
When Jongdae tugs Joonmyun by the collar — completely missing the score of 53 that flashes on on the screen — and kisses him with fervor, Baekhyun’s finally granted the excuse he needs to tug Chanyeol out of the room. He gives one final wolf whistle before leaving his friends to it, dragging a confused Chanyeol by the sleeve of his hoodie out into the cool evening and into a taxi.  
  
  
  
Chanyeol kisses Baekhyun hungrily against the front door of his apartment. With a few drinks in him, he’s even sloppier in his inexperience. Baekhyun’s probably not in much better shape, tactlessly pressing back, reaching to run his hands through Chanyeol’s now-red hair.  
  
He doesn’t care about technique either, too busy thinking about everywhere he wants his hands to be; everywhere he’d like Chanyeol to touch, too.  
  
“Did I mention I like the red hair?” Baekhyun rasps out as Chanyeol leans down to kiss along his neck. “It… looks good… on you.”  
  
Chanyeol pulls back with a proud smile at the same time his hands reach forward to begin to undo the buttons of Baekhyun’s shirt. Baekhyun reaches his hands up to help Chanyeol along, letting their fingers brush against each other in the rush of undressing him.  
  
“I remembered what you said the night in Itaewon.” Chanyeol’s eyes focus on all the new skin that’s exposed when Baekhyun slides the shirt of his shoulders. He bites down on his lip. “Decided to try your suggestion, since you’re my _mentor_ and all.”  
  
Chanyeol is a series of contradictions to Baekhyun. Confident with his lips, quick with the entendre, yet he still bites down on his lip with nerves in the wake of every few quips, is hesitant to reach out and run his fingers along the bared skin of Baekhyun’s chest.  
  
Baekhyun’s mind is too clouded to work through it all in this moment. So, Baekhyun leans in and helps Chanyeol along, because that’s what a good mentor should do. It’s Baekhyun who pulls Chanyeol towards the bedroom, who tells him it doesn’t matter if he leaves his socks on because he wants to touch him so badly. He wants to swallow Chanyeol’s moans, and feel the way Chanyeol’s muscles flex under his palms.  
  
It’s messy, the buzz of the beers making everything a little hazy as their hands and lips wander. Chanyeol’s breaths come out in heavy exhales before he’s taking Baekhyun in his mouth, warm and wet and imperfect, but so so satisfying.  
  
Chanyeol’s breath hitches when Baekhyun finally slides into him. The haze from the beer instantly disappearing as Baekhyun watches Chanyeol’s mouth fall open in a pleasured sigh. Chanyeol doesn’t whine when he’s ready for Baekhyun to move, instead he reaches up to run his hand along Baekhyun’s arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake.  
  
A blissed out smile spreads across his lips as he opens his eyes. He looks at Baekhyun like maybe he’s a little amazing; with trust and appreciation all wrapped up in lust. Or maybe he’s just a little too drunk to not smile like an idiot when Baekhyun’s hovering over him, stroking him with his free hand until Chanyeol comes in his palm.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Baekhyun looks down on Chanyeol’s sleeping figure as he buttons his work shirt the next morning. He looks nice like this, peacefully slumbering in Baekhyun’s bed — oblivious to the world waking up around him — and Baekhyun’s not about to disturb him. Chanyeol will wake up when his alarm goes off, anyway.  
  
Wandering into his living room, Chanyeol’s DSLR on the coffee table catches his eye and he’s picking it up and accessing the gallery before he can stop himself. Maybe he shouldn’t snoop, but Chanyeol isn’t really the type to be shy about his photographs. There’s shots of the food tent from the evening before, Jongdae’s hand wrapped around his glass, the owner half concealed by the plume of steam rising from the grill in the corner. Baekhyun doesn’t remember Chanyeol taking any of these shots — but he barely remembers much of the evening anyway.  
  
He does remember Chanyeol snapping shots of Jongdae and Joonmyun as they were being interviewed. Through Chanyeol’s lens, their gazes at each other look so much more intimate than what Baekhyun and his crew had captured. There’s the way Joonmyun’s hand rests on Jongdae’s hip, and a shot of Jongdae burrowing into Joonmyun’s neck the second Baekhyun had called ‘cut.’ There really is nothing Chanyeol misses.  
  
Something odd flutters in his chest when he scrolls further back and sees shots of himself, standing with the crew, smiling down at Sooyoung as he tries to ease her nerves. There’s so _many_ photos of him, outnumbering all the shots of the rest of the evening by at least a dozen. Baekhyun’s never seen himself like this, the way he looks to those he works with. In some he’s smiling, others he’s focused and peering into the monitor surrounded by crew as they reviewed their material. Even with so many other people in the photos, they’re all clearly of Baekhyun, and he’s not quite sure what to make of that.  
  
Chanyeol’s still out cold in Baekhyun’s bed when he wanders back into the room with the camera. He doesn’t know how to adjust all the settings as he snaps a couple pictures of Chanyeol’s sleeping form, giggling quietly to himself all the while. It feels nice to turn the lens back on Chanyeol, like he’s capturing a piece of him too, for once. He zooms in on the drool on his pillowcase, on Chanyeol’s half open mouth and pouty lips.  
  
He leaves the camera on the nightstand with a short note before he grabs his brief case and heads out for the day.  
  
  
_You look pretty ~~cute~~ handsome in my sheets.  
  
\- B._  
  
  
  
  


  


* * *

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
The rest of October is a blur of segment planning, art galleries, Gomok and _Chanyeol_. Baekhyun’s mind is too many places at once; trying to focus on the production schedule while also responding to text messages about the new suit he’d ordered for Chanyeol the week previous. Heechul teases more than once for spacing out mid-meeting, and asks him when the staff will meet his new girlfriend. Baekhyun just rolls his eyes before texting Chanyeol to confirm their plans for the evening.  
  
When October fades into November, temperatures drop even lower. The change means Baekhyun has to set his floor heating a little higher when he gets home, and more pesky layers that he has to remove as he undresses Chanyeol on the way to his bedroom. It also means that Chanyeol curls in closer against Baekhyun’s chest when they drift off to sleep, that Baekhyun only wakes up shivering when Chanyeol sleeps at his own apartment on weeknights.  
  
Chanyeol’s showing at Gomok had closed on Halloween, and the portrait of the market grandmother now hangs proudly in Baekhyun’s living room. He still finds himself staring at it on nights when he’s home alone. Sometimes, he thinks of the artist and the focus of his eyes when he’s looking through his camera’s lens. Other nights, he lets his eyes ponder the wrinkles on her face, and the curling of her fingers that shows how hard she’s worked her whole life.  
  
  
  
  


  


* * *

  
  
  
  
  
  
It’s one of the rare weekend afternoons where Chanyeol doesn’t have a new series to shoot, or a neighborhood he’d like to scout out. Baekhyun, too, has no plans for the weekend. He does know that he wants to get out of his apartment and distract himself from work for a few hours. So it makes sense that he’d end up in Chanyeol’s company, catching some indie film at the megaplex as Chanyeol sips too loudly on his soda.  
  
Baekhyun discovers that the movie theatre might be the only place where Chanyeol isn’t talkative. He’s completely engrossed in the film, even when Baekhyun’s hand creeps it’s way up his thigh.  
  
Of course, Chanyeol starts talking again as soon as they exit the theatre. Every observation he’d made about the film in the past two hours falls from his lips. He wants to know Baekhyun’s opinion on certain scenes, what he thought about the camera work. Baekhyun indulges him because it’s easy to talk to Chanyeol about art, and it’s always nice to see the way he blinks excitedly when Baekhyun points out something he hadn’t caught.  
  
They’re making their way through the department store below the movie plex when a display of winter coats catches Baekhyun’s eyes. One look at Chanyeol in his thin, wool peacoat gives Baekhyun an idea for how he’d like to spend the afternoon.  
  
“Why don’t you try on some coats, come on.” Baekhyun steers Chanyeol away from the escalator to the exit in favor of approaching the display.  
  
“I _have_ a coat, hyung,” Chanyeol says from behind him.  
  
“This one?” Baekhyun points at the wool peacoat. “This is _not_ a winter coat. It’s a fall coat at best.”  
  
“I’ll just wear layers when it gets colder. I have a lot of natural body heat, you know.”  
  
Baekhyun’s already sorting through the racks, though. Chanyeol’s excuses barely registering with him because there are so many choices and he wants to know what colors looks best on Chanyeol.  
  
“Let me buy you a coat?” Baekhyun holds up the first coat that caught his eye. It’s black, feather down with a fur-lined hood. “Please?”  
  
He isn’t going to push Chanyeol if it’s something he genuinely doesn’t want. Baekhyun just wants him warm, comfortable. Maybe he also wants to see Chanyeol wearing something he can claim, take credit for. It feels good, knowing that someone is comfortable because of him. It’s the same reason why he smiles at Sooyoung like she’s the sun, and why he’s the one who took out the lease on a car for his mother.  
  
It’s just the way Baekhyun is.  
  
“Ever think you have some sort of hero-complex?” Chanyeol eyes the racks of coats warily.  
  
“Hmm?”  
  
“You like saving people, fixing them up. You’re very _altruistic_.” Chanyeol accepts the coat Baekhyun passes him. He removes the camera hanging around his neck and slides the strap over Baekhyun’s neck without question.  
  
“I’m hardly ‘saving’ you, Chanyeol.” Because Chanyeol is far from some damsel in distress. Hell, half the time he takes better care of himself than Jongdae. He can also cook; which had been the best surprise Baekhyun’s woken up to in a long time two weekends ago.  
  
“Fine, you’re saving my wardrobe then. Rescuing it from any further college hipster fashion tragedies.” A dramatic hand hits Chanyeol’s chest. The material of the coat scratches as he pretends to flail about in helplessness.  
  
“How much coffee did you drink this morning?” Baekhyun chides as he holds up another red coat for Chanyeol to try on. Chanyeol’s always talkative — inquisitive — but rarely this hyper. That soda during the film might have been a mistake.  
  
Chanyeol just simpers, clearly enjoying his own dramatics. Maybe this is his nerves coming through, his way of coping with an upscale department store and Baekhyun’s insistence that he try on every coat on the rack.  
  
“Every hero has a tragic backstory, though. What’s yours?” Chanyeol presses after Baekhyun’s turned down another coat — too fluffy. Chanyeol had looked like the Michelin Man. He’ll definitely have to steer clear of white and puffy, because Chanyeol is too _big_ to not look a little silly.  
  
“I don’t have one.” He’s not lying. Baekhyun’s life has been hard work, but no tragedy.  
  
“Fine. Just your backstory then?” Baekhyun supposes Chanyeol would be curious. There’s nothing secret about Chanyeol’s past; Baekhyun knows all about the pet ferret he had when he was eleven, the idol groups his sister was obsessed with, that his mother’s dream is to open an Italian restaurant in Seoul to be closer to her children. His whole life is an open book, details slipping out each time Chanyeol’s reminded of something — which is often.  
  
Baekhyun, though, doesn’t talk about those kinds of things. He’s used to being around people who already know everything about him — like Joonmyun and Jongdae — or those who have little interest in finding out more, like Oh Sehun.  
  
“I’m from Bucheon, two parents, a brother.” Baekhyun shrugs, passing a grey coat to Chanyeol to try on. It’s longer with less volume, but looks warm. “Nothing exciting.”  
  
“Ooh, Bucheon. And here I thought you were a Seoulite through and through.” Chanyeol works his long arms through the sleeves and looks to Baekhyun for an appraisal. “Will I ever get to hear your dialect?”  
  
“Maybe someday, if you’re lucky. Let’s go with this one, it looks nice with the red of your hair.”  
  
Chanyeol hasn’t looked in a mirror the entire time, leaving the decisions up to Baekhyun on what looks good. When he finally catches sight of himself in the standing mirror behind him, he grimaces, flapping his arms.  
  
“I look…. Like a sleeping bag.” He tugs the hood up over his head and closes his eyes to demonstrate. It’s cute, how playful he is today. Even if Baekhyun has better ideas for how to channel his extra energy that don’t include digging up Baekhyun’s boring past.  
  
Baekhyun plays with the hood that frames Chanyeol’s face, tugging a little to make Chanyeol open his eyes again.  
  
“A very _trendy_ sleeping bag.”  
  
Chanyeol runs his hands down the front of the coat until the tag on the sleeve catches between his fingers. After looking at the price, his eyes widen more than Baekhyun had thought possible. In the next second, Chanyeol is shrugging himself out of the coat and passing it back to Baekhyun with a much more serious expression on his face than moments before.  
  
“Is this some kind of down payment?” he whispers. He looks at Baekhyun the same way he had at the gallery opening, like he’s searching for something, trying to get a read on Baekhyun.  
  
“No.” Baekhyun understands the implications of Chanyeol’s question. People can’t own people; not with fancy things, and not with money. He knows.  
  
He doesn’t like that Chanyeol’s features don’t soften at his clarification. So he looks away to pass the coat and his credit card to the sales clerk at the counter.  
  
“Then what is it?” Chanyeol follows him to the small check-out counter, leaning against it and trying to not look at the price that shows up on the register display.  
  
“Think of it more like a personal investment. I can’t have you freezing when you’re out shooting this winter. That little pea coat you wear definitely won’t cut it in the Seoul winter, no matter how many scarves you wrap around your neck to compensate for the lack of insulation.”  
  
Something shifts in Chanyeol’s continence, his lips curving into a measured smile — taking their time before he’s fully smiling at Baekhyun. Somehow, even if Baekhyun’s the one spoiling Chanyeol right now — the one who just shelled out a million won — he’s the one blushing.  
  
“So you’re worried about me freezing my fingers off and never being able to photograph people again?” A cute cock of the head. “Or losing my company because I’ve come down with hypothermia?”  
  
Baekhyun rolls his eyes as the clerk sets the bag on the counter between them.  
  
“Or,” Chanyeol continues, milking Baekhyun’s little explanation for all it’s worth. “You want me to look like a human sleeping bag so that no one else tries to hit on me?”  
  
“You’re ridiculous.” Baekhyun rolls his eyes. He does his best not to scoff at the suggestion in front of the sales clerk, pushing away from the counter and leaving Chanyeol to take the bag.  
  
Unfortunately, he only makes it a few steps before there’s warm fingers on the back of his neck — a weak spot Chanyeol only recently discovered — and his steps stop until Chanyeol is right beside him.  
  
“See, I told you you have a hero complex, hyung.” Chanyeol smiles down at him, holding the bag up beside him as if it’s all the proof he needs. His other hand is still on Baekhyun’s nape, rendering him nearly immobile. “But, thank you. I’ll be the warmest trendy sleeping bag all winter.”  
  
There’s a quick brush of Chanyeol’s fingers against the back of Baekhyun’s hand. It’s a small gesture of thanks — the most he can do in public like this — but Baekhyun feels the gratitude behind it.  
  
In the next second, the hand is gone, and Chanyeol charges ahead towards the exit with an excited spring to his steps. Baekhyun’s left behind, shaking his head, Chanyeol’s camera still dangling from his neck.  
  
  
  


  


* * *

  
  
  
  
  
  
Chanyeol always has a camera on him. Baekhyun learns this because somehow over the course of the past month, he’s become Chanyeol’s favorite subject.  
  
He’s never been one for having his picture taken, but something about Chanyeol pointing a camera lens at him never feels invasive. It feels almost appreciative, like Chanyeol is trying to preserve little bits of Baekhyun the same way Baekhyun is always trying to catalogue the infinite expressions of Chanyeol’s face, the colors of his boxers when they peek out from where his jeans ride low as he’s wandering around Baekhyun’s kitchen without a shirt.  
  
It’s gotten to the point where Chanyeol’s laughter and the sound of the shutter go together perfectly in Baekhyun’s mind, blending together to become the background noise to most of his time at home.  
  
Chanyeol’s sneaky, always shooting with film when he’s trying to capture Baekhyun emerging from the shower, or uncomfortably squished between two overweight ahjussis on the bus during one of their exploring sessions. Chanyeol says it’s because he prefers film, but Baekhyun has a feeling he chooses the medium simply because Baekhyun can’t force him to show the picture or instantly delete it off the camera if he looks like an idiot.  
  
So really, it’s no surprise that he’s awoken early on a Thursday morning by the sound of a camera shutter clicking.  
  
“Who said you could take my picture?” Baekhyun mumbles into the sheet, knowing full well what Chanyeol’s up to. Thankfully, he’s sleepy enough to sound grumpy without having to add any threatening edge to his voice.  
  
Instead of the retreat he’d hoped for, all he hears is the sound of more shutter clicks accompanied by quiet laughter.  
  
“No one.” Chanyeol sounds so much more awake than Baekhyun feels. “But I wanted to. You look cute when you sleep.”  
  
The remark is enough for Baekhyun to open his eyes into a scowl. He has to roll over before he spots Chanyeol seated in the armchair in the corner of the room, wearing only his boxers. His legs are spread wide as he watches Baekhyun through the lens of the old Canon camera. The camera obscures his eyes, but Baekhyun can clearly make out the victorious smile on Chanyeol’s lips below it.  
  
“I am not _cute_ ,” Baekhyun warns.  
  
Another defiant shutter of the lens.  
  
He narrows his eyes as Chanyeol chuckles. “Stop that.”  
  
Chanyeol looks over the top of the camera and cocks his head in challenge, his thumb already rolling the film for another shot.  
  
“Make me.” Chanyeol pokes out his tongue before returning to his position behind the viewfinder.  
  
Baekhyun lets out a small laugh of disbelief — Chanyeol is usually not so feisty in the early morning — before he’s diving across his bed towards Chanyeol.  
  
It’s a mess of giggles and tickles that progresses into biting and Baekhyun moaning into his sheets.  
  
He runs out the door an hour and a half later, already twenty minutes late for work.  
  
  
  
  
  


  


* * *

  
  
  
  
  
  
It’s mid November when Baekhyun lands Chanyeol the job of shooting the promotional photos for his JTBC segment. Chanyeol had been reluctant at first — not wanting to mix business with pleasure anymore than they already have. Baekhyun had emerged victorious in the end though, convincing Chanyeol that a little commercial work would be good for his portfolio — and his wallet — in between gallery showings.  
  
Even if it had been his doing, Baekhyun finds it strange seeing Chanyeol in the JTBC building with all his equipment (and wearing the button-up top Baekhyun had gifted him just for the occasion).  
  
Baekhyun watches from the sidelines as everything is set up. Chanyeol’s nervous, and it shows. Once he’s finally set-up though — secured with the familiar weight of his camera in his hand — Baekhyun sees Chanyeol’s confidence return.  
  
“All this time I thought you had a secret girlfriend that had you smiling at your phone so much.” Heechul suddenly appears at Baekhyun’s side. “I see I wasn’t too far off. I did wonder about the cute guy Siwon said he saw you cuddling up with in Ikseon-dong.” His eyes turn pointedly towards Chanyeol, who’s making Sooyoung blush with his encouragements under the studio lights.  
  
Baekhyun regards Heechul warily. He doesn’t hear any judgement in his boss’ voice, but he still has to proceed with caution. They’ve always had a good rapport, and they know each other well enough to tease one another — to sing cheesy duets with one another at noraebang after a staff dinner. There are lines they’ve never crossed though, and sharing details of their personal lives is one of them.  
  
“My friend Joonmyun is a curator,” Baekhyun says plainly, “Chanyeol is one of his protégés looking for work. He seemed like a good match for the job.”  
  
“He is.” Heechul chuckles in agreement. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Sooyoung take to someone so naturally. Even with you, and she worships the ground you walk on.”  
  
Baekhyun lets out a huff. Sooyoung certainly doesn’t _worship_ him. She admires him maybe — respects him as her producer. She’s growing more confident with each report.  
  
“But,” Heechul continues, “I know that look. And if you don’t want other people to catch on, you might want to tone down the possessive stare.”  
  
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Baekhyun rolls his eyes.  
  
“No judgement, though.” Heechul ignores Baekhyun’s comment. “If he makes you happy, I’m happy for you. Whoever you were with last time you spent so much time staring at your phone never made you smile like this. If anything, you seemed more cranky back then.”  
  
Baekhyun knows the time Heechul is referencing, even if he’d never told Heechul about Sehun. During that time, he’d felt more on edge than ever — preoccupied with holding Sehun’s interest, and helping him meet the right people. With Chanyeol, even if the arrangement is the same on paper, it’s different. It’s natural.  
  
“Hold on to him, okay?” Heechul sips his coffee slowly, smiling at Baekhyun over the brim.  
  
“He’s not my boyfriend or anything.” Baekhyun feels the need to correct, because it’s the truth. “I’m just his mentor.”  
  
“Is that what the kids are calling it these days?” Heechul laughs before turning on his heels and disappearing behind the set.  
  
  
  
  
  


  


* * *

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
In terms of the arrangement, Baekhyun had implicitly promised to show Chanyeol off, to give him the right connections. In exchange, Chanyeol should come home with him when Baekhyun asks. He never made Chanyeol promise to spend all their time together, he wouldn’t ask that of one of his arrangements. That’s why it’s a little baffling to Baekhyun that most of their time together is spent in his living room, that _Chanyeol_ is the one who texts him after his classes asking if he can come over.  
  
He enjoys showing Chanyeol off at gallery openings, and wandering the streets of Seoul with Chanyeol and his camera — but within the confines of his apartment it’s just himself and Chanyeol. The camera rests on his coffee table, Baekhyun trades his work suit out for a hoodie and sweats.  
  
Behind closed doors, there’s no putting up of pretenses, no need to cater to anyone else. Chanyeol brings his laptop to edit photos, Baekhyun puts on his reading glasses — ‘old man’ glasses as Chanyeol calls them — and scours through traveling arrangements and potential stories.  
  
He can reach out and trace his fingers along Chanyeol’s arm just because he wants to. Chanyeol can lay his head on Baekhyun’s thighs and discuss his latest series without any hesitation.  
  
“... and then Minseok came home drunk and totally didn’t see that I was developing photos in the bathroom. Turned on the light, walked in with his dick half out already, and gave me the scare of my life.”  
  
“Did the photos survive?”  
  
Chanyeol’s head is in Baekhyun’s lap. He has his laptop resting on his stomach as he scrolls through his photo gallery.  
  
“No, save the couple shots that were done processing. I made him re-imburse me for all the photo paper he exposed, too. That stuff isn’t cheap.”  
  
“Maybe you shouldn’t be developing photos in your bathroom at one in the morning on a Saturday night.” Baekhyun’s fingers mindlessly run through Chanyeol’s hair.  
  
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but my social life is pretty limited.” Chanyeol squirms in Baekhyun’s lap, setting the laptop aside by his knees. “My Saturday nights were pretty much devoted to developing my film rolls from the week until you came along.”  
  
“And now I keep you busy?” Baekhyun dips his head down to crowd Chanyeol.  
  
“Something like that.” Chanyeol’s eyes go cross with his smile.  
  
Baekhyun’s unfamiliar with this kind of domesticity. Yet, he can’t say he minds it. He likes listening to Chanyeol talk — the low timbre of his voice as he discusses the intricacies of putting together his midterm series, and the weekly critiques he endures about his work.  
  
They share a few breaths before Chanyeol leans up to kiss him. It’s an awkward angle, and soon Chanyeol is sitting up, throwing a leg over Baekhyun to straddle him. Hands automatically card through his hair; Baekhyun tugs Chanyeol closer by the nape.  
  
Chanyeol smells familiar, clean with a hint of something that’s distinctively _Chanyeol_ , and combined with the way his lips press back against Baekhyun — it’s enough to completely distract him from the draft schedule he’d been editing on his phone.  
  
Their noses brush together when Chanyeol breathes him in, too. Something about Baekhyun’s own scent must comfort him, because he relaxes even more into Baekhyun’s lap. He presses closer, and the glasses Baekhyun’s wearing dig into the bridge of his nose. He’s too preoccupied with Chanyeol’s lips to really care if the lenses get a little smudged, or the rims bent.  
  
He does draw the line when the glasses begin to push up his forehead, Chanyeol’s lips too eager as he pushes Baekhyun back into the couch cushions. Baekhyun reaches up to remove them, get them out of the way, but a hand to his wrist stops him half way.  
  
“Keep the glasses on, I like them.” Chanyeol’s eyes flutter open. He’s so close, Baekhyun could count each eyelash if he wanted to. But he’d rather kiss Chanyeol more, without the glasses in the way.  
  
“Chanyeol, they’re on my forehead.”  
  
“And they make your forehead look very cute.”  
  
Baekhyun scowls. He’s almost enamored enough with the flush on Chanyeol’s cheeks to let the remark slide, but not quite. “What have I told you about calling me cute?”  
  
“That you secretly like it because each time I say it, your cheeks get all red?” Chanyeol’s hand trails down Baekhyun’s side, finding purchase on the curve of his hip.  
  
Baekhyun shudders. Chanyeol’s hand grounds him, makes him feel heavy on his own couch, but light in his mind.  
  
“I’m taking the glasses off.”  
  
“No,” Chanyeol whines, moving quickly to kiss Baekhyun before his hands can reach up for the lenses again.  
  
The kisses don’t automatically lead to more — Baekhyun doesn’t try to progress things any further because he can tell that Chanyeol just wants to kiss him. Kiss him just like this with his glasses pushed up on his forehead and Chanyeol’s laptop half open, balancing dangerously on the couch cushion beside them.  
  
Mostly, what he enjoys is Chanyeol’s unconcealed intimacy with him. He doesn’t wait for Baekhyun to initiate touches anymore, or to kiss him first. If he wants to, he leans right in, pulls Baekhyun close, and kisses him until Baekhyun’s head is spinning. Baekhyun hasn’t just _kissed_ many people in the past decade without it being part of a quick rush to the finish. But when the kisses stop, and he’s sprawled out against Chanyeol’s chest half an hour later — Chanyeol’s breathing already slowing down as he drifts off to sleep — he really can’t say he minds.  
  
  
  
  
  
Baekhyun opens his eyes hours later to the sight of Chanyeol’s t-shirt and the feeling of Chanyeol’s stubble stuck in his hair. It’s light out already, and _crap_ they fell asleep on the couch. His neck hurts when he tries to roll his head up to get a better look at their position. Somewhere in the hours between when he fell asleep and now, they’ve rolled on their sides. He’s lying precariously close to the edge of the couch, but Chanyeol’s arm wraps around his back — hand tucked under his hip — and holds him in place.  
  
On cue, his phone’s morning alarm begins to go off from the coffee table, shrill and unpleasant in a way that makes the kink in his neck feel even more prominent.  
  
“Wake up, Chanyeol.” He tries to wiggle himself free. How Chanyeol is conditioned to only wake up to his own phone’s alarm is truly fascinating. “It’s morning, you’ve got class.”  
  
“Comfortable.” Chanyeol’s arm tightens. How can he sleep when the alarm is only getting louder the longer it’s ignored?  
  
“Come on,” Baekhyun whines, tickling Chanyeol’s neck until he finally opens his eyes. Chanyeol’s not as ticklish as he is, but it’s generally enough to get him moving in the morning. Chanyeol tries to glare, but his eyes are too heavy with sleep for it to look remotely intimidating.  
  
Sleepy Chanyeol follows Baekhyun to the shower, discards his clothes with his eyes still half closed and leans into the tiles as Baekhyun tries to get the temperature of the water just right.  
  
“I’m gonna be late to class if I try to swing by my apartment. Might have to borrow one of your shirts again.”  
  
“Should I just buy you some more clothes to keep here?” Baekhyun suggests, passing Chanyeol the soap.  
  
Chanyeol shrugs, halfheartedly. He’s still so tired, rubbing the same patch of skin on his chest instead of spreading the soap around.  
  
“I like wearing yours.”  
  
“We’re not even the same size.”  
  
“We’re the almost same size on the top,” Chanyeol disagrees. He opens his eyes fully for the first time all morning. “You’re just a little shorter.”  
  
Chanyeol proves his point by running his hands along Baekhyun’s naked shoulders, admiring their width. Though sensual in it’s own way, there’s nothing about it that pushes Baekhyun to want more, even with Chanyeol naked in front of him. Instead he lets his eyes fall shut, appreciates the feel of Chanyeol’s big palms running down the length of his arms. He leans into his chest, still sleepy and lethargic. Chanyeol is bigger, more firm, but soft in a way Baekhyun isn’t. Chanyeol’s arms wrap around him in the next moment, and they stay like that until Baekhyun’s snooze alarm begins to go off again in the adjacent room.  
  
  
  
Baekhyun only realizes how intimate the exchange had felt once he and Chanyeol are parting ways at the entrance to his building. It isn’t the first time Chanyeol’s just slept over, but it is the first time they’ve showered together without one of them ending up on their knees as the water washes over them.  
  
Out of the handful of arrangements he’s had, there’s never been with someone quite like Chanyeol — who spends time with him simply because he _wants to_. Baekhyun’s not used to the attention. He’s always been the one behind the scenes, directing where the attention should be.  
  
“Hey, hyung?” Chanyeol shouts after Baekhyun’s already started walking the other direction.  
  
He turns to see Chanyeol still standing there. He knows it’s _his_ Supreme t-shirt under Chanyeol’s wool coat, his shampoo that washed Chanyeol’s still-wet hair.  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“I’m shooting tonight in Dongdaemun Snack Market.” Chanyeol tugs at his camera unconsciously — a habit of his whenever he talks about shooting locations. “Wanna come with?”  
  
Despite all his mixed up thoughts, he smiles in agreement. “Okay. I know a good restaurant in the area. Dinner’s on me.”  
  
“I was counting on that.”  
  
It’s teetering on dangerous territory, and he knows it.  
  
  
  
  
  


  


* * *

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
It’s one of the rare evenings when Chanyeol is not with Joonmyun nor Baekhyun — and Jongdae is actually busy helping out behind the counter of Gomok. Chanyeol’s preparing for finals, which means a lot more time in the school’s darkroom, and a lot less time trying to network in art galleries or cuddling on Baekhyun’s couch.  
  
“So, Japan next week?” Joonmyun sets his coffee down.  
  
Baekhyun’s spent the better part of his week scheduling the trip. It’s the crew’s first international filming, and it needs to go off without a hitch.  
  
“Yup.”  
  
“Taking Chanyeol?” Joonmyun inquires.  
  
“He has work to do on his series. You know that better than I do. He practically spends all his time with you when he isn’t with me or in class.”  
  
Joonmyun laughs good naturedly. “You and Jongdae complain in the same way, you know?”  
  
“What do you mean?” Baekhyun isn’t aware he’d been complaining. It’s simply a fact: if Chanyeol isn’t with him, or in class, he’s probably following Joonmyun around somewhere like a puppy.  
  
“He never explicitly tells me he’s jealous, he just complains about how he can call Chanyeol if he ever needs to get a hold of me because we’re always together. Though, we all know he doesn’t have anything to be jealous about.”  
  
Baekhyun knows that’s true. Joonmyun has only had eyes for Jongdae since they first met at the bar of Club Pulse a decade ago.  
  
“You _are_ fond of Chanyeol though,” Baekhyun points out. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Joonmyun take to any of his protégés like he has to Chanyeol. Probably because Chanyeol actually thinks Joonmyun’s jokes are funny.  
  
“Of course I am. I like Chanyeol a lot. Not the way _you_ do though.”  
  
“Oh?” Baekhyun’s above blushing at the remark. He knows he might be a little too fond, and he knows Joonmyun is fully aware of that fact. So instead, he teases. “Never thought about how handsome he is? How nice his long legs are?”  
  
“I’ll leave those thoughts to you.” Joonmyun laughs as he leans back in his seat. “I’m more into short guys with lip rings and a whine that puts five year olds to shame.”  
  
“So whipped.” Baekhyun tsks his tongue.  
  
Joonmyun raises an eyebrow. “And you _aren’t_?”  
  
“No. I’m not.”  
  
  
  
  


  


* * *

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
“What’s this for?” Chanyeol examines the new suit like he’s never seen formal clothing before. Baekhyun’s already taken the liberty of selecting the outfit, all that’s left is to have it tailored. Which is why Chanyeol is standing, completely out of place in a t-shirt, flannel, and jeans, in the middle of the suit shop.  
  
“It’s for you to put on…” Baekhyun teases, passing the hanger to Chanyeol to hold up in front of himself.  
  
Chanyeol rolls his eyes. “I know that much.”  
  
Baekhyun lets his hands run along the width of Chanyeol’s shoulders, pressing the navy fabric against Chanyeol’s flannel and imaging how handsome he’ll look once he actually puts it on.  
  
“… and then ideally, I’d take it off later.”  
  
“Playful,” Chanyeol acquiesces with a laugh. It’s the boyish, amused one that Baekhyun’s learning he likes best. “What’s the occasion?”  
  
“There’s a restaurant launch in Insa-dong. Lots of people will be there. Some art directors, a few gallery owners, good connections for you to make.” Baekhyun reaches forward to straighten the collar. He already knows, once Chanyeol puts on the suit, it’ll manage to unfold itself from how often Chanyeol rubs the back of his neck. “You want to make the best impression possible.”  
  
“I own a suit, you know.”  
  
“I’m aware. But this is a bit more of an occasion than your clearance suit will fit.” Baekhyun’s seen Chanyeol’s ‘suit’ plenty of times. Though he’s fond of the slightly too-short sleeves, and the semi-permanent wrinkles it has, his experiences with Lee Sooman’s launch parties have him well aware it will not make the cut.  
  
Chanyeol gives up with a sigh. “Fine. Any other requests?”  
  
“Comb your hair back?” Baekhyun’s fingers relocate from Chanyeol’s shoulders to his red hair. It’s faded in the past few weeks, he notices as he pushes the stray hairs away from Chanyeol’s forehead. “It looks good like this.”  
  
  
  
  
  
  
The suit proves to be a wise investment when they walk through the doors of Lee Sooman’s newest restaurant. Everyone is dressed to the nines. Even Jongdae’s taken out his lip ring for the occasion.  
  
Baekhyun doesn’t miss the way eyes follow Chanyeol; with his bright red hair and height, Baekhyun can hardly blame them. He looks polished like this. Still eccentric with his hair, but pristine in his own right. Baekhyun likes him like this — likes showing him off like this.  
  
(He also likes the softer version of Chanyeol, whose hair sticks up in every direction, with kiss swollen lips and the small pimples on his cheeks.)  
  
“Who’s the tall guy in the corner and why is Jongdae scowling at him?” Chanyeol whispers into Baekhyun’s ear as they make their way to the bar.  
  
Baekhyun almost doesn’t have to look to know exactly who Chanyeol is asking about. “That’s Wu Yifan, a Chinese restaurateur…. and Jongdae is still bitter about the time that he hit on Joonmyun, not knowing he was attached.”  
  
“Jongdae doesn’t seem like the type to hold grudges.”  
  
“Ha!” Baekhyun’s sharp laughter catches the attention of a few people around them. “He isn’t… unless it comes to Joonmyun.”  
  
“Noted. Remind me to never hit on Joonmyun.”  
  
“You’d better not.” Baekhyun pinches Chanyeol’s arm. He knows Chanyeol wouldn’t dare.  
  
Baekhyun guides Chanyeol through the crowd with a hand on his elbow. He wants to slide his hand along Chanyeol’s back, wrap his palm around his hips, but this isn’t the place. Instead, he smiles formally, introduces Chanyeol to a few people as ‘Joonmyun’s latest protégé’ and keeps his hands to himself.  
  
Jongdae, of course, notices Baekhyun’s restraint and throws him a quick wink before daringly reaching down to pinch Joonmyun’s ass beside him. The fact that Joonmyun doesn’t even react tells Baekhyun that it happens a little too often.  
  
It’s expected that at some point, Joonmyun will come over and steer Chanyeol towards someone he’d like the student to meet. Tonight, it’s Kim Taeyeon — one of his oldest friends and Associate Curator at Seoul Museum of Art. Chanyeol isn’t the only one who’s a little star struck as she smiles up at him, Jongdae also has stars in his eyes. It’s not just that she’s beautiful — because she is — but she’s also one of the most respected experts in Korean art history, making her Jongdae’s idol.  
  
Joonmyun talks to Taeyeon with all the familiarity that comes between old friends who respect each other. He throws an arm around Chanyeol’s shoulder and laughs at the student’s expense when Chanyeol begins to blush from all of his praises.  
  
“I’m really still a novice. There’s so much I have yet to learn.” Soon, Chanyeol’s cheeks will be the same color as his hair and Baekhyun thinks it’s adorable.  
  
“Nonsense!” Jongdae jumps in, eager to show off something to Taeyeon. “He’s studying at SVA in New York next semester,” Jongdae boasts, nudging Chanyeol encouragingly with his shoulder at the same time.  
  
All the air escapes from Baekhyun’s lungs, his stomach drops, but his smile never falters.  
  
_America?_  
  
Chanyeol looks over to him with guilty eyes. Jongdae realizes all too late that he’s let something slip that perhaps he shouldn’t have when Joonmyun flares his eyes at him in warning.  
  
“It’s just an offer,” Chanyeol clarifies politely to Taeyeon. Baekhyun’s sure a bit of it is for him, too. “I’m still considering it.”  
  
Baekhyun forces a polite smile while Taeyeon gives her congratulations. SVA isn’t an easy school to get into, she points out. Joonmyun, though sensing the tension, also points out that SVA has one of the best photography departments in the world, that it’s an honor to be accepted.  
  
Chanyeol’s hand finds its way to the small of Baekhyun’s back and squeezes encouragingly. Baekhyun’s throat feels too tight. He shouldn’t be so affected by a small suggestion — something that isn’t even definite — but he _is_ because Chanyeol might be leaving, and he doesn’t think he’s had enough time yet.  
  
While Taeyeon and Joonmyun are distracted in conversation, Chanyeol tries to lean in to whisper in Baekhyun’s ear.  
  
“Hyung…”  
  
“Later.” Baekhyun says. The word comes out too sharp. He’s not angry, he just hadn’t been ready.  
  
  
  
  
Baekhyun doesn’t bother to ask Chanyeol if he’s coming home with him. He simply bids farewell to Jongdae and Joonmyun once the conversation dies out — with an apologetic smile on Jongdae’s part — and steers Chanyeol out of the restaurant with a hand against his elbow. Taxis are plentiful on the main road, and ride home is quiet. Neither himself nor Chanyeol make the move to breach the silence. His hand, though, stays rooted on Chanyeol’s thigh, fingers clutching harder than usual as he keeps his eyes on the neon lights outside the window.  
  
  
Baekhyun had promised that he would take the suit off later, and that’s exactly what he does as soon as his apartment door is shut and they’ve toed off their shoes. Of course, he’d imagined doing it slower — allowing his fingers to tease against Chanyeol’s chest, to appreciate each shallow gasp of breath as he would take his time kissing each centimeter of skin exposed as he unbuttoned the dress shirt.  
  
As it turns out, though, he’s too excited by the shivers that run down Chanyeol’s spine the second he leans up to kiss him, and all too anxious to feel Chanyeol’s skin beneath his fingers. These reactions always excite him, but he _needs_ them tonight, his hands tugging at the fabric impatiently, riling Chanyeol up as quickly as he can to be rewarded with his heavy breathing.  
  
Thus, the suit is quickly discarded in a path to Baekhyun’s bedroom, and Chanyeol’s in his bed — long limbs, parted lips, gasping breaths, all as it should be. Boxers gone, lube in his hand, he teases a finger around Chanyeol’s opening and ghosts his breath over Chanyeol’s already half-hard dick. Then an idea hits him.  
  
“I want to try something new. Roll over.”  
  
Chanyeol obliges all too easily, only momentary confusion flashing across his features before he gets over on all fours. He’s so pliant like this, not simply complacent with Baekhyun’s desires, but eager to try them.  
  
He runs his hands along Chanyeol’s ass, kneading what little flesh there is before he pulls the cheeks apart and leans in and kisses between them..  
  
“Whoa, what are you doing?” Baekhyun feels the shiver that runs down Chanyeol’s spine, feels the way his knees are already shaking.  
  
“Has anyone ever done this to you before?” He teases, poking a tongue out to lick the rim. Chanyeol moans from deep in his throat, and it’s all the encouragement Baekhyun needs to lay his tongue flat, and lick him fully, properly.  
  
“N-no. Jesus Christ.”  
  
Chanyeol’s hips cant instinctively, and it only makes Baekhyun want _more_ — more reactions, more shivers, more moans of his name. More _Chanyeol_. He presses his tongue in further, breaching the rim just slightly before tugging it back out. He repeats the process until Chanyeol’s back is arching, incoherent moans falling from his lips.  
  
“Touch yourself.” Baekhyun pulls away to instruct. Chanyeol complies, his weight falling into his shoulders, ass pressing into Baekhyun’s face.  
  
“You can come like this, if you want,” Baekhyun phrases it as a suggestion, but it’s more of a request. He wants to feel Chanyeol come like this, wants to keep tasting him as Chanyeol slowly unravels.  
  
“Fuck Baekhyun,” is all Chanyeol manages to verbalise when Baekhyun slides a finger in alongside his tongue. He won’t last long like this, and Baekhyun is too hard between his own legs to drag this out much longer. He knows Chanyeol’s body, knows just where to push his finger harder to make Chanyeol come undone. Tonight, he’s desperate to do just that.  
  
A breathy “fuck” and Chanyeol comes in his hand; his upper body collapses fully into the mattress and Baekhyun watches the rise of his back as Chanyeol tries to regulate his breathing. It’s too enticing to not sit up and begin to stroke himself above Chanyeol. It’s good, so good, but he wants more.  
  
Baekhyun waits until Chanyeol tells him it’s okay to lube himself up and slide into him slowly. It’s hard to hold back when Chanyeol’s body is still flat against the mattress and Baekhyun’s palm is spread out against his shoulder blade. His body is so long, firm, and lanky, but somehow soft. Baekhyun leans down to kiss along his neck, rests his weight against Chanyeol’s back as he runs his fingers through his hair.  
  
“Move. It’s okay.”  
  
Chanyeol is still over sensitive from his orgasm, yet still so responsive to each of Baekhyun’s thrusts. His moans are muffled by the sheets, and Baekhyun almost wants to tell him to turn his head, to let Baekhyun _hear_ him, but he’s too lost in the tightening feeling in his lower abdomen, in the way Chanyeol’s body instinctively clenches around him when he finds the right spot.  
  
“Wanna….” Chanyeol turns his head, voice rough and breathless, “Wanna fuck you too, hyung.”  
  
A jolt runs down Baekhyun’s spine, his hips stalling for a moment because his mind short circuits at the suggestion.  
  
“Now?” His fingers dig deeper into Chanyeol’s shoulder blade, trying to ground himself with so many sensations overwhelming his thoughts.  
  
Chanyeol shakes his head into the sheets, words failing him for a moment.  
  
“Next time.”  
  
The thought of Chanyeol above him, Chanyeol _inside_ of him makes the muscles in his abdomen tense in anticipation. Three more deep thrusts and he collapses, exhausted, atop Chanyeol. Their bodies stick together, sweaty and satiated. Baekhyun barely manages to pull out of Chanyeol and toss the condom on the floor, his limbs too boneless, his body too exhausted.  
  
He places one last kiss to Chanyeol’s shoulder as he rolls them over, holding Chanyeol from behind.  
  
“I have until winter vacation to make up my mind.” Baekhyun hears in a quiet whisper before he finally gives into his exhaustion.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Baekhyun is woken up by lips kissing along his neck. Chanyeol’s the one holding him from behind now, his hand already sneaking down to wrap around Baekhyun. They’re still naked, and Baekhyun can feel Chanyeol’s morning wood against his ass.  
  
He knows what Chanyeol wants without him having to ask, the idea still exciting him as much as it had the night previous. He wants to feel Chanyeol, too. Wants to be the one to fall apart. He’s still sleepy, still waking up, but Chanyeol’s hand on him feels too good, his mind already made up as he starts to thrust into Chanyeol’s hand.  
  
“Is it okay if I…?”  
  
Fingers dance along Baekhyun’s ribs, he can feel Chanyeol’s warm breath against his neck in a subtle plea.  
  
“Yeah. But go slowly, I haven’t done this in a long time.” And he’s not nervous about it. He trusts Chanyeol to not hurt him, to not rush things.  
  
There’s a soft kiss to Baekhyun’s cheek. “Okay, hyung.”  
  
Chanyeol isn’t pretty like this, in the mornings when his eyes are still puffy with sleep. The suit from last night is still discarded somewhere on Baekhyun’s floor, gathering wrinkles. He doesn’t care though. Chanyeol like this, the grunts that leave his lips when he finally slides into Baekhyun, is beautiful.  
  
He looks over his shoulder, and Chanyeol’s lips meet him halfway. It’s slow, no rush, as Chanyeol spoons him, fucks him gently, kisses him fully and holds him almost too close.  
  
He doesn’t want this Chanyeol on his shelf, he wants him in his arms, holding him just like this. Turning the tables and taking care of _him_.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


  


* * *

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Baekhyun’s almost busy enough in Japan to not think about Chanyeol’s pending offer. _Almost_.  
  
Because everything ends eventually, and people move on. He can only guide — be with Chanyeol — so much before Chanyeol will chase the next best offer. It’s not like Sehun who ran off with someone he thought was better than Baekhyun. This is Chanyeol chasing after his dreams. Of course, Baekhyun knows, he should go — and Baekhyun shouldn’t have any influence over his decision other than encouraging Chanyeol.  
  
If he were offered the same opportunity when he had been twenty-three, he would have taken it, no questions asked. Baekhyun can buy Chanyeol expensive things, can introduce him to the right people, but he can’t — has no right — to tell Chanyeol what he should do with his future.  
  
So, he drinks a bit too much with Sooyoung and Siwon in a corner bar when filming wraps up for day. He focuses his attention on the interview script and keeping Sooyoung on track, and not the Kakako messages from Chanyeol and Jongdae that fill up his inbox.  
  
  
  
  
  


  


* * *

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Baekhyun returns to Korea resolved to not pressure Chanyeol about his decision. In fact, he refuses to bring it up. Not when Chanyeol shows up at his apartment the evening of his return and kisses him like he’d missed him during their time apart; and not the next morning when they’re quietly watching the news on his couch — still in their pajamas — and Chanyeol’s head is resting on his thigh.  
  
He wants to appreciate these little moments, not be hung up on the decision he knows Chanyeol has to make on his own. He doesn’t want to think about time, but he chances a look at his calendar anyway.  
  
“Oh, I forgot!” He jumps up as soon as he realizes it’s already the last day of November.  
  
“What?” Chanyeol’s still waking up, and Baekhyun’s sudden energy disorients him for a moment.  
  
“I have something for you.” Baekhyun climbs off the couch to run to the bedroom. The brown bag sits on his dresser, maybe he should have wrapped it.  
  
He’d bought it on impulse after he’d opened a picture message from Jongdae of Chanyeol smiling over a birthday cake. He still doesn’t know why Chanyeol failed to inform him about his birthday, but he definitely wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity to give him a gift — even if it’s a few days late.  
  
“Jongdae told me about your birthday while I was in Japan. Still annoyed you didn’t tell me, but…” This moment isn’t about Baekhyun, it’s about Chanyeol: his birthday, his gift. Baekhyun holds out the BIC Camera bag in front of him. “ _This_ is for you.”  
  
“I’m not really big on celebrating my birthday.” Chanyeol takes the bag, and curiously peers inside. “This is for me?”  
  
“Happy birthday.” Baekhyun smiles, eager for Chanyeol to open the bag — excited to see Chanyeol’s reaction.  
  
“Whoa Baekhyun, this is…”  
  
“I remembered you mentioning something about the new Canon DSLR, and I didn’t know if you already had the body or not, and the sales lady told me not all lenses work with all mounts, so I just got you both.”  
  
Chanyeol tries to pass the bag back to Baekhyun, his eyes blown wide. “I can’t accept this.”  
  
Baekhyun’s face falls. “Why not? It’s a gift.”  
  
“This is too much. I _know_ how much this thing costs, Baekhyun. Even my mom just got me a new camera _strap_ for my birthday.”  
  
“But I _want_ to give this to you.” Baekhyun tries to pout as he sits himself beside Chanyeol on the couch. He pushes himself closer, still refusing to take the box from Chanyeol’s hands. “I want to take care of you, remember?”  
  
He doesn’t know why he’s trying so hard, why it matters so much that Chanyeol accepts this gift — what it actually means to him.  
  
“I…”  
  
“Just accept the camera, Chanyeol.” Baekhyun breathes along Chanyeol’s neck. He watches as Chanyeol shudders, his eyes blinking shut. It’s a little low, to seduce Chanyeol into accepting the gift. Nonetheless, he smiles victoriously to himself as Chanyeol’s grip tightens on the camera box.  
  
“Okay,” Chanyeol sighs out, reluctantly.  
  
“Good. Now, for the other half of my birthday present….”  
  
“There’s more?” Chanyeol whispers because Baekhyun’s so close. “I don’t know if I can —”  
  
“Don’t worry,” Baekhyun cuts Chanyeol off with a finger against his lips. “This one didn’t cost anything.” Baekhyun pries the box from Chanyeol’s hands and sets it on the coffee table before propping himself in Chanyeol’s lap. “To celebrate the big 24, I’m also giving you _me._ ”  
  
Chanyeol’s brows scrunch in confusion.  
  
“Ta-da!” Baekhyun says playfully as he leans in for a kiss, which Chanyeol slowly reciprocates “You can do anything you want.”  
  
“Anything?” Chanyeol shudders again. It feels so good beneath Baekhyun’s fingers.  
  
Baekhyun confirms his offer by wrapping his arms around Chanyeol’s neck. Since this is Chanyeol’s present, he lets Chanyeol decide where to put his hands, and lets Chanyeol set the pace of the kiss once their lips touch again. Chanyeol takes things slowly, his hands inevitably finding their way to Baekhyun’s hips — his favorite spot to rest them, Baekhyun’s learned. He squeezes them as he kisses Baekhyun deeply.  
  
“Could you uh…”  
  
“Whatever you want,” Baekhyun promises again, letting his lips close over Chanyeol’s fuller bottom lip. “Anything, just tell me.”  
  
“I want you to blow me.”  
  
Baekhyun can’t help but smile into the kiss in agreement. He refuses to pull away even as his hand slides into Chanyeol’s boxers, stroking him to half hardness.  
  
“Okay.”  
  
Baekhyun’s just begun to slide Chanyeol’s sweat pants down when his doorbell rings. He pulls away with a groan. Chanyeol’s breathing is still heavy as he rises to his feet to answer the door. Hopefully, it’ll be someone he can shoo away quickly.  
  
Instead, he’s greeted with the sight of his brother and a big brown box filled with what looks to be entirely too many tupperwares of _banchan_.  
  
“Baekbeom hyung.”  
  
“Hey Baekhyun. I tried calling but you weren’t picking up so I thought I’d swing by anyway.” Baekbeom rattles off his explanation until he looks over Baekhyun’s shoulder and spots Chanyeol on the couch. “Ah, new boy toy. I see why you didn’t pick up now. Hello, I’m Baekbeom.”  
  
Baekhyun follows Baekbeom’s eyes with an amused grin. Chanyeol is still on the couch, though he’s pulled a pillow over his lap since Baekhyun opened the door. His hair is still messy, and it’s obvious what they’d been up to only seconds before.  
  
“Park Chanyeol.” His lips are scrunched in a grumpy pout as he exchanges greetings with Baekbeom. Maybe it’s from the fact that he’s been called ‘boy toy,' but it’s more likely the fact that there’s an obvious strain in his sweatpants that he’s hiding beneath the pillow.  
  
Baekhyun smiles to himself as he leans against the door frame. Sulking Chanyeol is pretty cute.  
  
“What brings you by?”  
  
He hears Chanyeol mumble something behind him about going to take a shower, which only makes him smirk harder as his brother shakes his head.  
  
“Mom made too much of everything again and wanted me to bring it by. Also, you know, to check up on you. She wasn’t sure you’d gotten back from Japan yet since you haven’t called.”  
  
“Tricky, tricky.” Baekbeom rarely pops by unannounced, and generally when he does it’s at their mother’s urging. He’d meant to call her last night, really, but kind of got sidetracked as soon as Chanyeol texted him asking to come over.  
  
“Sorry to interrupt whatever you and… boy toy were up to,” Baekbeom adds with a wink.  
  
“ _Boy toy has a name!_ ” They both hear shouted from the bathroom before the sound of the shower running drowns out any further disgruntled protests.  
  
Baekbeom eyes the bathroom door with nothing but amusement. “He’s a sassy one.”  
  
Baekhyun shakes his head fondly. “He isn’t, really. He just doesn’t like you right now because your arrival interrupted his birthday _present_.”  
  
“Didn’t need to know that, thanks Baekhyun.”  
  
“No problem.” Baekhyun leans further into the doorframe, letting his apartment door open wider and uncaring that he’s only in his sleeping shirt boxers as he does so.  
  
Baekbeom can read a situation, and probably doesn’t want to spend anymore time staring at his half naked brother and thinking about the fact that he was about to get laid.  
  
“I’ll be back in town next weekend. Let’s grab drinks?”  
  
“Sounds good.”  
  
“Alright, I’ll leave you two to get back to… whatever it was you were doing. Sorry to blue balls you.”  
  
Baekhyun shrugs. “Nah, don’t worry about it. Probably won’t happen now anyway, since Chanyeol’s being sulky and doesn’t like getting dirty after showering.” One of the many facts Baekhyun has picked up about Park Chanyeol. He doesn’t like getting dirty after being clean; it’s the same reason he only lets Baekhyun cuddle him after his evening shower.  
  
“All the more reason for you to intercept him in the shower, right?” Baekbeom winks. “Make it up to him?”  
  
“Smart man. I remember that we’re related now.”  
  
Baekbeom rolls his eyes. “Text me your schedule for next weekend, okay?”  
  
“Will do.”  
  
“And tell boy toy I said happy birthday.”  
  
And so, after he locks his front door and sets the food in the kitchen, Baekhyun takes up Baekbeom’s advice. He finds Chanyeol in the shower, already stroking himself. It’s quite the sight, water dripping down Chanyeol’s abdomen as he bites down on his lip to keep himself quiet. Baekhyun leans against the bathroom door, his presence still unnoticed by Chanyeol, just taking it in for a moment.  
  
When Chanyeol finally lets a small moan break through, he can’t hold himself back anymore. He sneaks out of his clothes, and opens the shower door. Chanyeol isn’t surprised by his appearance, instead he meets Baekhyun’s eyes with nothing but _need_ as his hand picks up speed.  
  
Baekhyun wordlessly drops to his knees, placing a small kiss to Chanyeol’s belly button before replacing Chanyeol’s hand with his mouth — expensive cameras, _boy toys_ , and nosey brothers long forgotten.  
  
“ _Happy Birthday_.”  
  
  
  
  


  


* * *

  
  
  
  
  
  
Baekhyun follows through on his promise and meets up with Baekbeom at some trendy bar in Dongdaemun. They serve real cocktails at the bar — not just soju and beer — which means Baekhyun has to watch himself. He’s always been a sucker for the sweeter drinks that come with a full bar, and he’s meeting up with Chanyeol later. He’d prefer to spend the evening _with_ Chanyeol and _not_ with a tragic case of whisky dick.  
  
(Chanyeol would probably tease him about his age affecting his stamina or something equally ego-bruising, and he doesn’t need to give Chanyeol any more ammo to tease him with.)  
  
Drinking with Baekbeom is always nice, though, even if he bugs Baekhyun about visiting Bucheon more often because their mom misses him. He knows Baekhyun is busy, and their mom does too. No one necessarily holds it against him, so long as he makes it home for the important holidays.  
  
Baekbeom also knows that Baekhyun can only handle so much of their mother’s pestering for him to settle down. Each time he visits, she hints about having more grandchildren. Baekhyun brushes it off by instructing Baekbeom to breed more — which always earns him a firm tug of the ear from his mother.  
  
He has a good career, and nice apartment. He isn’t like Baekbeom who married his college girlfriend and already has two kids. He doesn’t _want_ to be like Baekbeom.  
  
Thankfully, Baekbeom understands. He always understands.  
  
“So, new boy toy?” Baekbeom wiggles his eyebrows.  
  
“His name is _Chanyeol_.” Baekhyun laughs into his water glass. Chanyeol would not be happy to find out he’s still being called ‘boy toy’ by the man who blue ballsed him a week ago. The thought alone is enough to make Baekhyun giggle to himself.  
  
“Fine, _Chanyeol_. What’s he like? I saw the cameras on the coffee table. Let me guess, he’s a starving young artist whom you’ve taken under your wing?”  
  
Baekbeom’s been through this routine a few times by now. He’s seen the men on Baekhyun’s arm at Gomok, and taken Baekhyun out drinking when the arrangement came to an end. He knows the drill, knows Baekhyun’s type.  
  
“One of Joonmyun’s recent trainees. He’s… cute.” Baekhyun shouldn’t blush when he says that, but thinking about Chanyeol has him doing it automatically. “He’s still young and idealistic, and he asks entirely too many questions but… I don’t know… there’s something about the way he looks at people that I really admire.”  
  
“The way he looks at people or the way he looks at you?” Baekbeom leans back in his seat. He quirks an eyebrow at his brother.  
  
“Both, maybe.” There’s no point in lying to Baekbeom, he can read his brother like a book anyway. He likes the way Chanyeol smiles at him, like he trusts him and admires him. He also likes the way Chanyeol’s eyes become hooded with need and he gazes at Baekhyun like he’s the only one who can help him, can make him feel good. He wishes he understood more of those more inquisitive gazes; that he could understand what Chanyeol’s trying to figure out by almost looking right through him.  
  
“You seem to really like this one.”  
  
Baekbeom knows Baekhyun’s short list of former arrangements. He’s rarely been alone over the past two years, always able to find someone to take care of. Some, like Kim Jongin barely lasted a few weeks, others like Oh Sehun lasted several months but never really _went anywhere._ Chanyeol’s… well, he’s different.  
  
“He’s… something else. That’s for sure.”  
  
“I see. You should invite him out next time, let me get to know him.”  
  
Baekbeom’s never really wanted to get to know any of Baekhyun’s arrangements. He much prefers to tease them from a distance, and offer comforting words as Baekhyun tries to write them off with entirely too many shots of soju. This is new.  
  
“Only if you promise not to call him ‘boy toy’ to his face.”  
  
“I can’t make any promises.”  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Chanyeol is waiting in front of Baekhyun’s building when he exits the taxi. He really should just give Chanyeol the door code at this point, there’s no reason to keep him standing out in the cold — especially when Chanyeol’s only wearing a hoodie, and it’s entirely too chilly outside for that to be acceptable. Where’s the coat Baekhyun had bought him a month ago? Chanyeol probably hadn’t thought he’d have to wait outside long; expected to be buzzed up as soon as he arrived.  
  
Baekhyun feels guilty, even if he thinks the chilled flush of Chanyeol’s nose is cute.  
  
“Sorry, drinks with Baekbeom ran long.”  
  
“I don’t like your brother.” Chanyeol pouts as Baekhyun approaches. His sleeves extend past his fingers like always, and Baekhyun instantly reaches out to play with the little paws the fabric creates.  
  
“He _is_ a bit of an ass.” Chanyeol’s fingers are cool when Baekhyun’s brush against them. “But, you can’t hold him blue balls-ing you against him forever.”  
  
“Watch me,” Chanyeol says the words with all the defiance of a toddler. In the next instant, Chanyeol is tugging Baekhyun closer — over eager as always — probably trying to feed off his warmth. ‘I have a lot of natural body heat,’ Baekhyun’s ass.  
  
Baekhyun wants to appreciate the surprise embrace, but his nose catches something that immediately has his features scrunching in disgust. Fish. Chanyeol smells like _fish_.  
  
Baekhyun pulls away, regarding Chanyeol skeptically. “What were you up to today?”  
  
Chanyeol’s fingers linger on Baekhyun’s arm, trying to keep him close as he looks down at him sheepishly.  
  
“Wandered through Noryangjin,” Chanyeol finally responds when he realizes he won’t be able to get Baekhyun back in his personal bubble anytime soon. A fish market; Baekhyun should have seen it coming. “Got some really good shots, actually. You want to see them?”  
  
Chanyeol’s so eager to share, that it’s hard for Baekhyun to think of anything aside from cuddling up with Chanyeol on his couch and watching the student scroll through the shots on his camera. One small breeze and another whiff of Chanyeol’s fish smell is enough motivation to hold off, though.  
  
“First, we need to get you into a shower and _out_ of these clothes.” Chanyeol almost pouts as he angles his nose down in an attempt to sniff himself. “ _Then_ , you can show me the photos.”  
  
“Fine, fine,” Chanyeol whines as Baekhyun all but shoves him in the direction of the building doors.  
  
  
  
  
Chanyeol’s much more inviting when he smells like Baekhyun’s shower gel and is wearing Baekhyun’s spare clothes. All Baekhyun’s pants had been too short, so Chanyeol’s wearing a pair of old gym shorts in the early winter. It’s okay though, because Baekhyun sets his floor heating a little higher and curls up a little closer to Chanyeol on the couch to share his body heat. Chanyeol’s always so warm, anyway.  
  
Baekhyun’s pretty sure they’ve gone through the entire memory card on Chanyeol’s new DSLR twice already, yet Chanyeol continues to scroll, excitedly pointing out details of a shot that he might have missed the first time he showed it to Baekhyun.  
  
The couple drinks he’d had earlier with his brother, combined with Chanyeol’s soothingly low voice have Baekhyun’s eyes fluttering shut against his will.  
  
“Hyung?” Chanyeol nudges his shoulder to get Baekhyun’s attention. It only makes Baekhyun nuzzle closer as he sniffs the fabric of the T-shirt Chanyeol is borrowing. Chanyeol smells a little like Baekhyun, and it’s nice. “Are you falling asleep on me?”  
  
“Mmmm,” Baekhyun manages to mumble out. He doesn’t want to fall asleep like this, at 9pm before he and Chanyeol have even had a chance to properly kiss. It’d be just about as bad as whiskey dick in terms of giving Chanyeol an opening to make more comments about his aging. But, he’s just so comfortable that it’s hard to not be lulled to contentment, even when Chanyeol is rattling on excitedly right next to him.  
  
“Guess I’m going to have to wake you up, then,” Baekhyun hears before the world shifts around him. Suddenly, Chanyeol’s warm shoulder is gone, and his hands are repositioning Baekhyun to lay against the armrest of the couch.  
  
He opens his eyes, ready to protest, but is struck by the sight of Chanyeol hovering over him, smiling down wickedly. He wiggles his eyebrows in victory, with a teasing hint of something else that’s got Baekhyun feeling a whole lot more awake than he’d been ten seconds ago.  
  
Chanyeol’s not good at holding back kisses once he has Baekhyun like this, so Baekhyun expects the move to be made at any moment. Chanyeol seems to have upped his self control game, though. Instead of leaning in, his eyes stay focused on Baekhyun. It’s hard to look away, even when Baekhyun feels the sensation of Chanyeol’s hand sliding up under his shirt.  
  
Baekhyun’s slowly learning to appreciate when Chanyeol takes control like this, makes him feel just as wanted, as needed.  
  
As Chanyeol’s hand creeps higher, he finally leans his head down. Baekhyun can feel Chanyeol’s breath as the he presses closer to nose his neck. Is he intentionally ignoring Baekhyun’s lips? Baekhyun squirms when Chanyeol’s fingers brush over his ribs; combined with the sensation of Chanyeol’s warm breath on his neck, something coils in his stomach. Chanyeol has to know what he’s doing to Baekhyun.  
  
“Can I ask you some questions?” Chanyeol whispers into the skin of his neck. He doesn’t pull away as he waits for Baekhyun to answer.  
  
“What about?”  
  
Chanyeol’s weight falls a little heavier against Baekhyun’s hips, and Baekhyun has to fight the urge to not immediately grind against him, to speed things up.  
  
“About _you_.”  
  
“Me?” Chanyeol has Baekhyun right where he wants him. Baekhyun can tell by the smile he feels against his neck when Chanyeol finally leans in to kiss along his pulse point.  
  
“I’m curious about a few things.”  
  
Chanyeol finally pulls back to watch Baekhyun consider his request. His hand doesn’t stop it’s exploration, though. The teasing touches turn into a more comforting squeeze against his waist as Baekhyun blinks up at Chanyeol.  
  
He’s not used to this; the way Chanyeol turns the tables and makes it about him. He’s not used to one of his arrangements actually caring about much aside from his salary.  
  
“Okay, I’ll answer a few questions,” he agrees warily. “But I’m going to have to get something in return.”  
  
“Like what?” Chanyeol cocks his head with a smug grin  
  
Baekhyun pretends to think for a moment, letting Chanyeol’s hand continue to knead against his side. “For each question you ask, you have to kiss me...”  
  
Chanyeol rolls his eyes, victorious grin taking over his features. “Easy.”  
  
He leans in to confirm the fact with a kiss against Baekhyun’s lips, but is stopped halfway by Baekhyun’s palm.  
  
“ _But_ , you can only kiss me once in each spot.” Baekhyun boops Chanyeol’s nose with his index finger teasingly. “You’re going to have to get creative.”  
  
It’s enough to earn a breathy laugh from Chanyeol. “Luckily, I’m a pretty creative guy.”  
  
“That you are,” Baekhyun agrees. He leans back further into the couch to get comfortable before he lets Chanyeol start. Chanyeol, too, positions himself a little better above Baekhyun, resting his weight fully against Baekhyun’s lower half as he props himself up by the arms.  
  
“Okay. Shoot.”  
  
“How long have you worked at JTBC?” Chanyeol questions nearly as soon as Baekhyun gives him the green light. He’s obviously been thinking about this for a while.  
  
Baekhyun blinks impatiently, waiting for Chanyeol to fulfill his part of the deal before he shares his answer.  
  
Chanyeol catches on after a few beats of silence, and leans in to place a delicate kiss against Baekhyun’s nose.  
  
“Not the lips?” Baekhyun asks, confused, as Chanyeol pulls away.  
  
Chanyeol winks. “I’m saving that one.”  
  
“Fair enough.” Baekhyun rolls his eyes, but he can’t stop the fond smile that curves on his lips. It’s such a _Chanyeol_ thing to say, and he definitely likes where this is heading. “I started at JTBC six years ago.”  
  
“And before that?” Chanyeol leans back in to place a kiss right below his left ear.  
  
“Before that, I interned at KBS…” Baekhyun’s breath hitches when Chanyeol makes no move to retreat, his exhales fanning against the skin of Baekhyun’s neck. “But they didn’t want me.”  
  
“Why not?” Chanyeol shifts to place a matching kiss to the right side.  
  
Baekhyun inhales, he’s too caught up in the way Chanyeol’s deep voice seems to vibrate against his skin to stop the words from spilling out.  
  
“They said my interests were too soft, that I wasn’t sharp enough around the edges for _real_ journalism. I guess being interested in everyday people isn’t something they cared about at the time.” Baekhyun hasn’t talked about this in a long time; he doesn’t like to remember how inadequate he’d felt when his supervisor had spared no insults as she informed him they wouldn’t be hiring him full time.  
  
Chanyeol pulls back to look at Baekhyun, and his gaze is too intense for Baekhyun to hold it. He doesn’t want Chanyeol’s pity. What’s done is done.  
  
There’s a gentle kiss to his forehead.  
  
“But JTBC?”  
  
Baekhyun remembers to breathe as Chanyeol’s hands slowly reach down to undo the top buttons of his shirt. He takes his time, letting anticipation build with each centimeter Chanyeol’s hands move downward.  
  
“They liked me enough, saw some potential. I spent the majority of my twenties working my ass off all over the station, helping out with filming here, co-producing a segment there. It wasn’t until they handed me the special interests segment that they really appreciated me, though.”  
  
“The special interest segment with Kang Seulgi?” Chanyeol’s hands stop as he waits to read Baekhyun’s reaction. He knows he’s pushing boundaries, Baekhyun can see it in the way he nervously rolls his bottom lip between his teeth before sitting up on his knees and reaching for Baekhyun’s hand.  
  
The small kiss he places against Baekhyun’s fingers is all the encouragement Baekhyun needs to continue.  
  
“Right.” He nods, captivated by the way Chanyeol’s eyes linger on the mole of his thumb for a moment before he lets the hand fall back down against his thigh. “She was my first real protégée.”  
  
“And you’re mad at her for leaving?” Chanyeol leans back down to run his lips along the newly exposed skin of Baekhyun’s collarbones.  
  
“No, I… I get it.” A hand sneaks inside the opening of Baekhyun’s shirt, and the fabric is delicately pushed aside. “KBS is better in every way, JTBC was her stepping stone. Everyone moves on eventually.”  
  
Chanyeol’s lips trace against the skin of Baekhyun’s chest until he reaches a nipple. Tentatively, Chanyeol sticks out his tongue to lick it.  
  
“What about your brother?”  
  
“You just _licked_ my nipple, and you’re asking me about my brother?” Baekhyun tries to chide, but Chanyeol’s other hand is making it’s way up his thigh. It’s maddening. “Way to kill the mood.”  
  
Chanyeol repeats the action anyway on Baekhyun’s other nipple, and Baekhyun can’t stop the moan that escapes his lips.  
  
“Baekbeom is… he’s six years older than I am, and a lawyer back in Bucheon. He’s… everything my parents wanted him to be: successful, married with two kids...”  
  
Chanyeol’s hand becomes more bold, moving to touch Baekhyun through his pants as he kisses along Baekhyun’s chest. “And you two get along?”  
  
It’s kind of twisted, talking about his brother while Chanyeol’s stroking him through his pants. But, Chanyeol’s hands feel _so_ good, Baekhyun won’t — can’t — ask him to stop. Especially when Chanyeol’s kisses move lower, and his breath fans over Baekhyun’s belly button.  
  
“Baekbeom is one of the only people I trust.” And Baekhyun means it. They argue, and Baekbeom _is_ a bit of an ass, but he’s never had anything but Baekhyun’s best interests at heart. “He’s always looked out for me. Even now, he’s the only reason my mother isn’t knocking down my door, demanding I settle down and start making babies with some pretty woman.”  
  
“He knows you’re… gay?” The buttons of his pants are completely undone, Chanyeol’s hand easily sliding inside to touch Baekhyun fully.  
  
“Obviously.” Baekhyun barely manages to breathe out. He’s falling apart, and Chanyeol is nothing short of composed against him. It’s frustrating as hell, but also incredibly hot. “He’s known since he walked in on my high school boyfriend blowing me in our room.”  
  
Chanyeol takes his time kissing around Baekhyun’s hip bones, slowly stroking him to full hardness. Baekhyun’s breathing is labored as he watches Chanyeol pull away to look him in the eyes.  
  
“Did you love Oh Sehun?”  
  
He certainly doesn’t see that question coming. Maybe from Joonmyun in passing, but never from Chanyeol. Half the time he forgets Chanyeol even knows about Oh Sehun, that they’ve met.  
  
He heaves a heavy breath, Chanyeol’s stare too heavy for him to hold.  
  
“No. But I wanted to.” The confession breaks Baekhyun’s heart a little. He’d wanted so badly to keep Oh Sehun. He’d wanted to keep all those small smiles to himself, to hear Sehun say that he wanted Baekhyun, too. But something always held him back from voicing his desires, and when Zhang Yixing came along Baekhyun realized exactly why that was.  
  
He’d never trusted Oh Sehun, and deep down he’d known the model would never stick around.  
  
Looking at the man atop him now — at the way Chanyeol watches him so intently, reading every movement of his face — Baekhyun wonders if he can trust Chanyeol.  
  
The heavy air between them doesn’t disappear when Chanyeol finally moves back up to join their lips. If anything, the room compresses even more around Baekhyun. Chanyeol kisses him like he knows the question Baekhyun’s asking himself, like he’s giving him an answer without any words. It’s not a chaste kiss, not with the way Baekhyun eagerly kisses back, rushes to take Chanyeol’s bottom lip between his teeth and distract himself from his own racing thoughts. He’s so wound up — feeling a little vulnerable and exposed — and wants, _needs_ , to get lost in the taste of Chanyeol.  
  
Chanyeol’s lips comfort him, ground his mind in only Chanyeol’s taste, Chanyeol’s scent, the feel of Chanyeol’s hands against his skin. He pulls Chanyeol closer, thrusts into his hand and feels his heartbeat quicken beneath his fingertips.  
  
When Baekhyun’s almost entirely lost in pleasure, Chanyeol’s final question comes out barely above a whisper, right against Baekhyun’s lips — stealing all the oxygen from his lungs.  
  
“Do you love _me_?”  
  
Baekhyun’s heart hammers in his chest, surely Chanyeol can feel it. Chanyeol’s lips linger above his own, tempting him as he waits for an answer.  
  
But Baekhyun can’t give him one.  
  
“That’s enough questions for one night,” Baekhyun whispers, immediately moving to pull Chanyeol back down and distract him with his lips.  
  
  
  
  
Baekhyun wakes up the following morning to Chanyeol curled against him in the sheets, quietly snoring. As much as he tries to dispel it, push it out of his thoughts, Chanyeol’s question echoes through his mind. He can’t love Chanyeol, not now. Not with the offer of America hanging over their heads.  
  
He’s not going to push Chanyeol. He’s not going to tell him he loves him just to keep him around. Because that wouldn’t be fair, not to him, not to Chanyeol.  
  
He can’t love Chanyeol yet, because he can’t be sure Chanyeol’s going to stay.  
  


 

 

[ Continue to chapter 3 ]


	3. Return Policy

Baekhyun hasn’t heard from Chanyeol in over a week. His calls have been ignored, text messages read but never replied to. It’s weird. This isn’t how it works, because Chanyeol is supposed to answer, Chanyeol is supposed to be available. Hell, half the time Chanyeol is the one calling him.  
  
And Baekhyun isn’t supposed to care because he’s worried. He’s supposed to care because they have an arrangement and Chanyeol isn’t holding up his end.  
  
Baekhyun knows he could call Joonmyun or Jongdae and get an update on Chanyeol’s whereabouts, but he’s not that desperate yet. Baekhyun’s also not dumb. He knows that Chanyeol’s probably taking some space after their last time together, thinking over his offer to study abroad, thinking about the fact that Baekhyun couldn’t tell him he loves him. That’s the part that has Baekhyun grimacing to himself each time his calls go unanswered.  
  
But what else was he supposed to say?  
  
  
  
He decides to try his luck again on Saturday afternoon. He’s cleaned his entire apartment, updated all the budget spreadsheets, done everything possible to distract himself from the fact that Chanyeol’s camera isn’t sitting on his coffee table, and he didn’t wake up to the sound of Chanyeol moving around pans in the kitchen.  
  
He doesn’t expect to hear Chanyeol’s voice through the line after the third ring.  
  
“ _Hey, hyung._ ”  
  
“You’re alive.” It comes out more accusatory than relieved.  
  
“ _Sorry. Busy week._ ”  
  
“What are you doing today? Can I see you?” He doesn’t want to sound so anxious, but he can’t help himself. He feels like something is slipping through his fingers, ever since that evening on his couch the week previous. He isn’t quite ready to let it go.  
  
“ _I was actually about to develop some photos…_ ”  
  
Baekhyun knows that’s Chanyeol’s way of saying he is in fact busy, that he doesn’t have time to be on the phone with Baekhyun — that he can’t keep him company this evening. But Baekhyun is unwilling to give up so easily, something inside him pushing him to continue.  
  
“Can I help?”  
  
“ _It’s not that exciting._ ” Chanyeol’s tone is too flat, missing the usual lilt that goes with his self deprecating remarks. Baekhyun doesn’t like it.  
  
“I’m curious.” Baekhyun borrows one of Chanyeol’s favorite lines, hoping it works.  
  
There’s a breath on the other end, and Baekhyun bites down on his lip. If Chanyeol turns him down, he’ll be okay, he won’t press any further today.  
  
“ _Okay. I’ll text you my address._ ”  
  
  
  
  
  
Save that one drunken night the second time they met, Baekhyun’s never been to Chanyeol’s apartment before. It’s tiny, just a kitchen and three doors. Two sliding ones that lead to bedrooms, one western door that leads to the bathroom.  
  
“I have to do this when Minseok is out,” Chanyeol says as he hangs a dark curtain on the inside of the bathroom door. Baekhyun had been expecting to meet Chanyeol at the apartment and then venture to a campus darkroom, but apparently, Chanyeol has his own way of doing things.  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Because once I set everything up, he kind of can’t use the toilet for three hours. It’s not really good roommate behaviour.”  
  
“Don’t you have darkrooms on campus?”  
  
“Yeah, we do.” Chanyeol tugs at the black curtain to make sure it’s in place. He peeks his head out from behind it to make eye contact with Baekhyun. “But you have to reserve them ahead of time, and I feel bad using them for personal work.”  
  
Once the curtain is secure, Chanyeol lugs a red lamp out of his bedroom along with three small folding tables and some bags of chemicals Baekhyun doesn’t recognize. He moves with such confidence, the set up playing out like muscle memory, even with Baekhyun trialing curiously behind him, asking what everything is.  
  
Baekhyun’s not sure he can be of much help when Chanyeol appears to have everything so together. So, he hikes himself up on the small sliver of kitchen counter and observes.  
  
The apartment is tiny, and Baekhyun wonders where Chanyeol manages to keep all of this equipment. Judging from the space he can make out through the half-opened sliding door, Chanyeol’s bedroom is little more than a twin bed, a closet and bookshelf. It’s hardly big enough for Chanyeol _himself_ much less Chanyeol and all his belongings.  
  
A few more minutes of shuffling and grumbling with electrical cords, and Chanyeol finally saunters out of the bathroom. He crowds closer to Baekhyun, filling the space between Baekhyun’s legs. They’re eye to eye like this, and Baekhyun almost forgets about the photos Chanyeol needs to develop with Chanyeol’s scent suddenly flooding his senses. He’s missed this, having Chanyeol in such close proximity, within reach.  
  
“Okay, all set up.”  
  
They haven’t kissed since that morning at his apartment, when Chanyeol bid him farewell with a barely concealed sadness in his eyes. Baekhyun’s hands reach up to play with the hairs on the base of Chanyeol’s neck, and he appreciates the way Chanyeol still keens into the touch.  
  
He’s just about to lean in, finally trap Chanyeol’s pouty bottom lip between his own, when Chanyeol pulls back with a weak smile on his face.  
  
Baekhyun is above pouting, but Chanyeol chuckles at the clear disappointment on his face all the same. Another half smile is given, one that Baekhyun can’t help but notice doesn’t quite reach his eyes.  
  
“Now what?” Baekhyun pushes himself off the counter, Chanyeol’s back already facing him as he moves the few steps towards the bathroom.  
  
“Now, we go in. You should leave your phone on the kitchen counter, just in case your screen lights up.”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
They go in the bathroom and Chanyeol turns out the lights. It’s dark.  
  
“We’ll have to wait a couple minutes for our eyes to adjust,” Chanyeol says as he flicks on the red light, and lays another towel at the base of the door to prevent any light from creeping through.  
  
It’s so dark, Baekhyun can barely make out the silhouette of Chanyeol’s shoulders. A fan is switched on, adding a quiet hum to the static sound of water running into one of the trays Chanyeol's set out.  
  
Now seems like as good a time as any to ask where Chanyeol’s been. It’s best to ask when Chanyeol can’t see the worry in his eyes, the possessive hurt that comes from a week of being ignored.  
  
“What kept you so busy this week?” Baekhyun questions into the dark. His eyes are slowly adjusting, but he still can’t read Chanyeol’s face; he can only hear the heavy sigh he lets out.  
  
“School stuff.”  
  
“Oh.” Baekhyun feels a little relief now, but also a little put off. “Everything okay?”  
  
Chanyeol doesn’t answer.  
  
Their eyes adjust, and Chanyeol finally begins the process. He adjusts the enlarger in the corner as he sets the film strip in the clip. The light buzzes when he slides the projector down, aligning the projection to fit within the frame.  
  
“How’d you afford all of this?” Last time Baekhyun checked, photo equipment was far from cheap.  
  
“Sold my best guitar two years ago.” He taps the metal with his palm, and it echoes through the bathroom. “This baby’s used — and old as hell — but it does the trick.” Chanyeol locks the projector lamp in place once he’s satisfied with the positioning. “Second hand enlargers aren’t really that expensive. At least, not the lower quality ones. For thesis stuff I can always use the university’s fancy one.”  
  
Baekhyun nods his head, realizing only after that Chanyeol probably can’t see his acknowledgement.  
  
“What are you doing now?” Baekhyun asks in the direction of Chanyeol’s silhouette. Chanyeol’s always the one asking questions, but today Baekhyun’s the one out of his element; unsure of what’s going on around him, unsure of what’s going on in Chanyeol’s head.  
  
“Setting the light and color levels, the exposure timer.” Chanyeol fiddles with the knobs on the side of the enlarger before Baekhyun hears the sound of an egg timer being wound up. “This is for a test shot. I need to figure out what timing settings work best for the film.” An image projects on the white base before it disappears as Chanyeol adjusts the focus.  
  
“Okay, should be good. Can you hand me a sheet of photo paper?”  
  
Baekhyun complies.  
  
“Be sure to close the box tight.”  
  
There’s a buzz as the enlarger projects light on the plain white sheet. Chanyeol covers half the paper with a black sheet, moving it down in measured increments each time the light shuts off. The old timer on the machine ticks with each passing second, but nothing is coming to life on the paper.  
  
“Where’s the picture?” Baekhyun leans over to get a closer look at the sheet. He can’t really get a good look at the projected image with the way Chanyeol hovers over the enlarger. It’s too faint for him to see clearly.  
  
“It’s there,” Chanyeol re-assures. “You just can’t see it yet. Needs to go in the developer first.”  
  
Baekhyun feels a little dumb, completely out of his element. He’d known photo developing took multiple steps, but he’d kind of expected the image to remain on the sheet after the light of the enlarger turned off.  
  
“Oh, okay.” It’s awkward, the air between them, all the unfinished words that seem to hang in the darkness.  
  
The enlarger shuts off for the final time, and Chanyeol quickly takes the sheet to drop into a small tray behind them.  
  
“This is the developer,” Chanyeol explains as he moves the image around with tongs in the liquid. Slowly, the image begins to appear. It’s a shot of Baekhyun, his face showing up in lines of varying contrast and depth across the test shot. It’s a strange feeling, watching himself appear in the small tray.  
  
“Should I be concerned that you creepily develop personal photos of me in your bathroom?” They’re both wearing gloves, so the light graze of Chanyeol’s arm isn’t nearly as seductive as Baekhyun intends it. Nonetheless, he is rewarded a small shiver from Chanyeol. It’s enough of a victory for him to cock his head cutely to the side and smile.  
  
“That all depends.” Chanyeol lifts the picture out of the tray before dropping it gently in the next tray to left.  
  
“On?” Baekhyun presses.  
  
“On what you think I use them for afterwards.” Baekhyun can hear the smirk in Chanyeol’s voice. He elbows him in the general direction of his ribs.  
  
Chanyeol chuckles, but says no more. Instead he moves the test shot through each of the trays, identifying them for Baekhyun each step of the way: developer, stop bath, fix, and the final rinse.  
  
They chat along the way, and almost find their way back to their familiar banter. Chanyeol’s responses aren’t as animated as usual, he’s more quiet and Baekhyun tries to overcompensate. He presses questions about everything, and helps Chanyeol choose which light level on the test shot looks best to proceed with before they develop the rest of the roll.  
  
Watching Chanyeol like this, completely in his element and comfortable, stirs something within Baekhyun. He’s always known Chanyeol is passionate about photography — that he isn’t just just another hipster with a camera — but seeing him in action, watching the way he knows every bit of the makeshift darkroom process like the back of his hand reminds Baekhyun that Chanyeol has a dream, a _passion_ that extends beyond meeting important people and having his photographs shown.  
  
Chanyeol is an artist, a professional, who has a natural something that no amount of ‘mentoring’ could ever replicate.  
  
“Remember how I told you that you look at the world like you’re looking for something to claim?” Chanyeol asks as he gazes at another shot of Baekhyun in the developer. It’s one of Baekhyun on the train, looking straight into Chanyeol’s lens. “I have an amendment to add.”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“I think maybe a bit of you wants to be claimed, too.” Chanyeol says quietly before moving the photo into the rinse, face down.  
  
  
  
  
The developed black and white photos hang to dry on a makeshift clothesline across the length of the bathroom. There’s more shots of Baekhyun, some of strangers he’s never seen before. Baekhyun wants to take the time to look through them all, but he’ll have to wait until they’re dried.  
  
“Alright,” Chanyeol smiles as the final shot is clipped to the line. “Time to clean up.”  
  
Immediately, Baekhyun moves to grab one of the tubs and pour it down the sink.  
  
“Shit!” Chanyeol grabs the tray from his hand, but it’s too late. “Fixer is toxic, you can’t pour it down the drain, hyung!”  
  
Baekhyun blanches. The small tray is already empty, all of it’s contents making their way down the sink drain with a garble. Has he just inadvertently poisoned the Seoul water supply?  
  
“Oops?”  
  
Chanyeol shakes his head. “It’s okay.” He reasons, voice more calm, “If any residents in the building fall sick, I’ll just blame my idiot of a sugar daddy.”  
  
Baekhyun’s head shoots up, trays and chemicals instantly forgotten at the use of the new label.  
  
“Did you just call me your ‘sugar daddy’?” He asks, half in disbelief that Chanyeol’s the one who said it first, half impressed that Chanyeol’s said it in English and not Korean.  
  
It’s Chanyeol’s turn to blanch. “I… guess?”  
  
The laughter hits Baekhyun hard, he’s gasping for air with each bellow that leaves his body. He doesn’t know why it’s so funny, but it is. Jongdae will have a field day with this.  
  
It takes a moment for Chanyeol’s deep laughter to join with his own. When Baekhyun manages to peek an eye open, he sees Chanyeol through the red light. For the first time all afternoon, his eyes crinkle with the force of a genuine smile.  
  
Tears pool in his eyes from laughing, or maybe from the toxic chemicals, but it feels good, light. He laughs freely as the tension from the week releases with each gasp for air. For a fleeting moment, it feels like everything is back to normal as their laughs echo off the bathroom walls.  
  
  
  
“And now, we wait,” Chanyeol says when he pulls the black curtain aside and opens the door. “Maybe we should rest for a bit. The chemicals always make me sleepy, at least.”  
  
The light hurts their eyes once they emerge from the makeshift darkroom, everything too bright, too clear for his head not to feel a little overwhelmed. Luckily, there’s Chanyeol at his side to guide him towards his bedroom with a hand to his shoulder. He’s quiet again as he lays down on the twin mattress and invites Baekhyun to join him.  
  
It’s still too much stimulation to open his eyes beyond a squint as he feels around to where Chanyeol is lying atop the covers. Baekhyun takes the sliver of bed offered to him, and immediately rolls on his side to press a little closer and feel Chanyeol’s deep breathing beside him.  
  
“It’s been weird not having you in my bed at all this week.” Baekhyun tries to joke as he snuggles closer. Chanyeol’s bed is so small, so compact, Baekhyun’s really not left with any other options than to crowd too close, to nestle his head in the dip of Chanyeol’s shoulder.  
  
“Sorry.” Chanyeol yawns. “There’s a lot going on right now.”  
  
“You could… tell me about it,” Baekhyun offers. His eyes are still shut, and he feels the rise of Chanyeol’s chest in a heavy sigh.  
  
“Not now. This is the most comfortable I’ve been in days. Can we just… nap?” Chanyeol’s voice sounds too small for Baekhyun to deny the request.  
  
  
  
  
He’s stirred out of sleep by the shutting of the front door. Baekhyun doesn’t know how long they’ve been out, but the sun has already set outside Chanyeol’s window. The kitchen light flicks on, and it illuminates the room through the sliding glass door. Baekhyun’s about ready to drift off again — anxious to take all the comfort he can get like this — when there’s a knock on Chanyeol’s room door and it’s being slid open.  
  
“Hey Chanyeol, are you —- _oh._ You’re busy.”  
  
Chanyeol stirs awake beside him, and Baekhyun realizes they’re snuggled up to each other even more than when they drifted off. His head rests on Chanyeol’s chest, their legs intertwined. When did this happen?  
  
He peeks an eye open and sees a shorter guy standing in the doorway.  
  
“Hey Minseok,” Chanyeol’s voice sounds just as tired, his body shifts beneath Baekhyun. “This is Byun Baekhyun.”  
  
“His sugar daddy,” Baekhyun amends into Chanyeol’s shirt with a giggle. He doesn’t really know what he’s saying. Too sleepy, too comfortable.  
  
“Oh, okay. Uh, I saw the curtain is up. Is it cool to use the bathroom, or should I go bother Jinri down the hall?”  
  
“Unless you want another excuse to flirt with Jinri, the path to the toilet is clear. Just keep the fan running.” Chanyeol’s arm tightens under Baekhyun’s shoulder, keeping him close.  
  
“Will do. Uh, have a nice nap?”  
  
“Mmm.”  
  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
“Chanyeol’s been aloof the past couple weeks,” Baekhyun complains into his beer. It’s just him and Jongdae tonight. Joonmyun’s out with investors, Chanyeol is MIA.  
  
Things haven’t gone back to normal after their Saturday together like Baekhyun had hoped they would. Chanyeol is still distant, and it’s still weird. Baekhyun doesn’t need to know every detail of Chanyeol’s life, but this is an arrangement — at least that’s the excuse he tells himself. Certainly he’s entitled to some explanation.  
  
“Haven’t seen him around much either, so I don’t know what to tell you. He’s probably just busy with school or something.” Jongdae’s a horrible liar.  
  
“Has he… said anything about SVA?”  
  
Jongdae bites down on his lip before looking up at Baekhyun with a guarded frown. “As in, has he made up his mind?”  
  
Baekhyun nods.  
  
“You’d have to ask him.” Jongdae knows he’s shared too much already, that night at the restaurant launch. He’s not about to make the same mistake twice.  
  
Baekhyun can only sigh. “I don’t want to push him. I don’t want him to make a decision because of me, because he’s been bought.”  
  
“You still see it that way?” Jongdae’s tone is accusatory, with an edge to it that Baekhyun’s unfamiliar with.  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
Jongdae sighs, composing himself before he speaks. “Come on, Baekhyun. Look at me and Joonmyun. If I weren’t with him, I’d be living in a tiny studio barely getting by on ramen with my Art History degree.”  
  
Baekhyun doesn’t know where this is going. “But you and Joonmyun are together. Really together.”  
  
A part of him wants to blame Jongdae, pin all his mistakes on his friend because Jongdae is the one who told Chanyeol what to expect from Baekhyun. Jongdae is the one who set the tone for their courtship. For a moment, Baekhyun allows himself to think that maybe things would have turned out differently if there was no arrangement hanging over their heads from the start. Like maybe he and Chanyeol could have been different — and maybe Chanyeol’s successes could be celebrated between them and not stand as the potential end of their arrangement.  
  
He knows it’s not true though, and shakes the thought away as soon as it comes. Baekhyun has habits, his own way of doing things. Jongdae has always been a supportive friend.  
  
“All I’m saying is, you know I’d be the last person to judge you, right?” Jongdae lets go of his beer glass in favor of placing his hand over Baekhyun’s across the table. “Love isn’t always about an equal exchange of _things_ between two people. I love Joonmyun, he loves me. We’re both okay with him making more money, I take care of him in my own way. We’ve built a life together.”  
  
“That’s it, you’ve built something _together_.”  
  
“And haven’t you and Chanyeol?”  
  
No, they haven’t. Not yet. There’s little seeds of potential that have been planted in the way Baekhyun keeps groceries in the fridge that he knows Chanyeol can craft into a wonderful breakfast, the way that Chanyeol always sends him picture messages of potential stories he thinks Baekhyun might want to cover for JTBC. But nothing is formalized; the limits of the arrangement always lingering between them, keeping Baekhyun from pushing past it.  
  
“Chanyeol’s going to leave,” Baekhyun whispers to himself for the first time. He doesn’t need Jongdae to tell him, he knows. Chanyeol was always going to leave, but his heart breaks all the same when Baekhyun admits it to himself. It hurts more than the first time he’d watched Sehun flirt with Zhang Yixing at the bar, or when Seulgi passed him her resignation letter with a quiet ‘sorry.’  
  
“It doesn’t mean he won’t come back.” Jongdae squeezes Baekhyun’s hand one final time before withdrawing his hand.  
  
  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
  
  
The knock on his door Friday evening is unexpected. Baekhyun answers, expecting to find Baekbeom and more leftovers. Instead he’s greeted with all six feet of Chanyeol in that trendy grey winter coat.  
  
He kind of _does_ look like a sleeping bag.  
  
“Hey,” Baekhyun whispers, a little shocked, and a little relieved just to _see_ Chanyeol.  
  
“Hi, hyung.”  
  
Chanyeol lets himself in, but makes no move to remove his coat. He looks around the living room — a space that should be so familiar to him — like he’s searching for something. It’s heavy, the air between them, and Baekhyun doesn’t know how to dispel the tension — how to put off what he knows is coming.  
  
“Have you eaten? Do you want to or—”  
  
“I’m studying in America next semester,” Chanyeol interrupts.  
  
“What?” Baekhyun doesn’t understand the unfamiliar feeling of bricks settling in his stomach — doesn’t want to think about why it hurts so much.  
  
“I’m leaving,” Chanyeol repeats.  
  
He’d known this was coming, tried to keep the thought out of his mind, but he’s always _known_ Chanyeol would leave. And a part of him wants Chanyeol to go, wants to root for him because this is the best opportunity for Chanyeol as an artist. Going to America is what he _should_ do.  
  
Endings are inevitable, Baekhyun knows. Since his chat with Jongdae, he’s given up on feeble attempts to convince himself Chanyeol would stay, that Chanyeol would be different. And he’s still unwilling to be the reason Chanyeol passes up such an opportunity. He’s unwilling to hold Chanyeol back even if every fiber of his being is screaming to keep Chanyeol close.  
  
Despite all this, the words sting and cause panic to rise up in his chest. Before he realizes it he’s mumbling out, “They have a spring vacation in America right? I can fly you out to visit…. Or — ”  
  
“No, Baekhyun.” Chanyeol’s voice is firm. Too firm for Baekhyun, and his heart breaks because he realizes with that single syllable that Chanyeol isn’t just _leaving_ , he’s ending things.  
  
Yet, he still fights. Still clings.  
  
“I want to —“  
  
“You’re not just going to fly me back to Korea for a week so that you have someone to fuck. No.”  
  
The words come out bitter, and Baekhyun wants to fight them. But he’s hurt, so hurt because that’s what Chanyeol thinks this is. This thing between them, this arrangement. And it’s Baekhyun’s fault because he set it up this way, knowing it would fail. He’d done this, and Chanyeol has every right to think the way he does.  
  
He has every right to leave Baekhyun behind.  
  
“This is so fucked up. We fucked this up, with cab fares and expensive cameras and suits. I just want to like you without it feeling like affection is something I have to reciprocate because I’ve been bought; without feeling you’re always trying to hold on to me with _things_.” Chanyeol runs his hands through his hair. “And I want… need some space away from it. Away from you. This isn’t any way to… fall in love.”  
  
Baekhyun looks away, unable to take the pained expression in Chanyeol’s eyes. Is that what they’ve been doing?  
  
“I’m not Kang Seulgi or Oh Sehun. I’m not waiting around for the next best offer. I like _you_ , I want to be with _you_ , but you’re too busy trying to buy me, trying to _keep me_ , to love me back.”  
  
Chanyeol’s pacing now. His voice gains no volume with each accusation, but his brows furrow more each statement — like he’s trying still trying to make sense of his own words as they spill out: make sense of what’s between them.  
  
“And I know that’s not what you want. You don’t want _me_ you want to _keep_ me. I agreed to this, I know, but now I need space. Because you’re pretty fucking great, and I can’t just be a plaything or a trophy. I need a bit of you, too.”  
  
“I —” Baekhyun tries, but Chanyeol is on a roll.  
  
“Please don’t say something just to placate me, because we both know it’s true. Maybe your feelings changed along the way, but how can I be sure? I asked you, point blank, and you couldn’t tell me you loved me. You won’t let yourself because you don’t trust me.”  
  
Chanyeol always sees too much, knows more than he lets on. He asks too many questions, and he overwhelms Baekhyun. But he’s never not been honest, never not been forward. And he’s right.  
  
“The only way I’ll really know — the only way you’ll really know — is if we take some space from this.”  
  
The tears pool in Baekhyun’s eyes before he can stop them. He cries because Chanyeol’s leaving; because he looks a little broken in the middle of his living room.  
  
Because Chanyeol just told him he loves him and even that's still not enough to keep him.  
  
Chanyeol is young, and still immature enough to run away from his problems. Baekhyun’s not much better, running away from every chance he’s had to tell Chanyeol that he _is_ different, is special. Baekhyun can accept that Chanyeol’s doing what’s right. He doesn’t want to, but he understands.  
  
“You shouldn’t be leaving to get away from me,” Baekhyun speaks through his tears, finally voicing some of the thoughts he’s had for nearly a month. “You don’t need to go to America to get space away from me. This is about you, too. About your art, and _your_ opportunities. I’m not going to stand here and ask you to stay because it wouldn’t be right. And yeah, I’ve fucked this up a lot, but you don’t have the right to put it all on me. This is an amazing opportunity. It should be a good thing for _you_ , not something you do to spite me.”  
  
Chanyeol visibly deflates the more Baekhyun speaks, his shoulders eventually dropping in shame as he pulls his lip between his teeth.  
  
“You’re right.” Chanyeol sighs, voice much more gentle than before. “I’m sorry. We both know I would have accepted this offer anyway.”  
  
It’s the truth that hurts the most, but it’s also the fact that the truth is out between them that allows Baekhyun to feel acceptance. He accepts Chanyeol’s decision, even his anger. He knows Chanyeol accepts that Baekhyun isn’t going to beg him to stay just to prove a point that’s futile.  
  
Silence hangs between them for several long breaths as they both try to process everything that’s just happened between them.  
  
“When do you leave?” Baekhyun finally asks quietly, sniffling.  
  
Chanyeol moves closer, seemingly unable to hold himself back when he reaches forward to wipe a tear from Baekhyun’s cheek.  
  
“I officially accepted last minute, and the semester in America starts in mid-January, so… next week.” His voice is more gentle now, the urgency of his outburst gone and replaced with tenderness. “I thought about not telling you…” Chanyeol gives a sardonic laugh, before leaning in and pressing their foreheads together. “But I couldn’t do that.”  
  
  
The kiss is inevitable, as are the clothes that are quickly thrown on the floor as Chanyeol pushes them towards Baekhyun’s bedroom. Baekhyun wishes that every touch wouldn’t feel like a goodbye, like Chanyeol’s trying to commit these little details to memory as he kisses down the expanse of Baekhyun’s torso.  
  
There aren’t any good words to be exchanged between them, words appropriate for this kind of heartbreak, this kind of _feeling_. So Baekhyun kisses back with all the emotions he can’t put into words, touches Chanyeol in all the right places as he takes his time committing him to memory, too.  
  
It’s Baekhyun who reaches for the lube and pours it on his fingers before reaching around to tease his own entrance while he’s sitting in Chanyeol’s lap.  
  
“Baekhyun?” Chanyeol warns in question.  
  
“I want to,” Baekhyun rests his head on Chanyeol’s shoulder. He wants to feel Chanyeol hold him, feel Chanyeol love him just a little bit before he leaves.  
  
“Okay.”  
  
Baekhyun rides him like that, with Chanyeol holding him close, never allowing their lips to part for more than a few seconds. There are tears on his cheeks, whether they’re Chanyeol’s or his own, he’s not sure. Baekhyun clings just as tight — fights off his orgasm — because it feels like he’ll let go of something he kind of wants to hold on to forever once he finishes.  
  
But, Baekhyun of all people, knows endings are inevitable. He comes with a cry of Chanyeol’s name, a bite to his shoulder when Chanyeol follows him moments later. They collapse back into the sheets, Chanyeol still holding him close as they try to regulate their breathing.  
  
“I’ll wait—” Baekhyun’s not used to showing this much vulnerability, to revealing this much. It’s exhausting.  
  
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, hyung.” Chanyeol whispers into his hair. His voice is just as broken, throat raspy from crying, too. “What am I supposed to do with a promise like that? Cling to it and regret leaving?”  
  
Chanyeol’s got it all wrong though. Baekhyun’s always the one being left behind, he’s never been asked to wait. He’s never had the opportunity to _try_ to keep someone after they’ve made up their mind. He’s not offering to make Chanyeol feel guilty, he’s offering because he knows he could wait — if only Chanyeol would ask him to.  
  
“I just mean —”  
  
“Not now, Baekhyun.” Chanyeol pulls him impossibly close.  
  
Baekhyun nuzzles against Chanyeol, letting it go for now. “I like when you say my name like that.”  
  
“Yeah?” Chanyeol chuckles. Baekhyun likes the feel of it against his hair.  
  
“Yeah. A lot more than I should because I am your, _hyung_. But I’ll let you get away with it tonight.”  
  
Tonight, they can be equals, without honorifics, arrangements, anything else between them. Just Baekhyun and Chanyeol who maybe have fucked everything up beyond repair.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
_Baekhyun,  
  
I woke up before you for once. Impressed? Really though, I had to leave before you woke up because I don’t know if I can say goodbye twice.  
  
I’m not going to ask you to wait for me, even if you’ve offered in your own way. But if, when I get back in May, you’ve thought this through and want to try…  
  
I’m yours.  
  
\- Chanyeol. _  
  
  
  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
  
The remainder of winter is cold in a way that no amount of expensive department store coats can combat. Chanyeol leaves without another goodbye, and the world keeps turning. Baekhyun goes back to work on Monday like nothing’s happened, even if Heechul regards him warily and offers to take him out for drinks after they clock out.  
  
It’s Baekbeom who Baekhyun ends up drinking with, as always. Only this time, Baekbeom keeps any snide comments about ‘boy toys’ at bay. He barely brings up Chanyeol, but when he does, he uses his name.  
  
New paintings go up in Gomok, and Joonmyun has new protégé. His name is Luhan, an illustrator. He’s sweet enough, but never breaches into the friend group the way Chanyeol had. It doesn’t feel right: not to Joonmyun or Jongdae, and certainly not to Baekhyun.  
  
Baekhyun knows both of his friends are still in touch with Chanyeol, but he can’t bring himself to ask for updates. He doesn’t want to know if Chanyeol’s found a new muse to photograph in New York, under the early morning February sun, with his deep laugh and the endearing click of the camera shutter. He wants to give Chanyeol the space he’d asked for.  
  
The space he needs, too.  
  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
  
  
Filming season wraps up in late March. For another successful round of segments, Heechul promises to take the whole team out on the company’s credit card, as he does every year. Only this time, the dinner is full of even more praises than Baekhyun’s accustomed to.  
  
“Not only did Sooyoung turn out to be a natural at interviews, but you really pushed your team this year.” Heechul raises his glass in a cheers. “Ratings went up, and you’ve received a broadcasting award for best special segment. The execs are happy, I’m happy.”  
  
It’s Sooyoung who shouts “To Baekhyun!” as the glasses clink for the first of many times that evening.  
  
It feels good to be rewarded and praised for all his hard work these past few months. He doesn’t tell Heechul that several of the stories were ones Chanyeol had suggested for him, it doesn’t really matter now. What matters is that Sooyoung doesn’t stutter over her words anymore, that she might even be more popular than Kang Seulgi with another season under her belt. She’s now comfortable enough to give her own suggestions during planning meetings, and she’s finding her voice.  
  
Those are the real rewards Baekhyun cares about, not the amount of alcohol and overpriced barbecue he can consume on the company’s tab.  
  
Dinner is inevitably followed by more drinks, and eventually _noraebang_. Heechul is a notorious girl group fan, and Baekhyun always his most willing partner in crime. Unlike Heechul, Sooyoung and Siwon though, Baekhyun goes easy this evening. He doesn’t want another hangover after the scarring one he’d had after his last night out with Baekbeom a couple weeks ago.  
  
He herds his drunk co-workers into the singing room, and laughs when Siwon almost immediately passes out on the far couch. He’s the biggest out of all of them, but can’t hold his alcohol for shit. It always makes for an entertaining spectacle.  
  
More rounds are consumed as the queue is filled with the usual list of cheesy pop tracks. Sooyoung and Soojung are slurring into the mic when Heechul slides over next to Baekhyun on the sofa.  
  
“Whatever happened to your cherry lollipop?” Heechul shouts over the music.  
  
“Huh?” Baekhyun shouts back. He literally has no idea what Heechul is on about, and it might be time to cut him off.  
  
“Camera boy. Possessive stares across the studio!” He has one of those obnoxious tambourines in his hand, and it shakes as he waves his arms. “The one your were mentoring. Tall, red hair…”  
  
Though Heechul’s words are slurred, and slightly drowned out by the bass in the background, Baekhyun knows immediately what — or _who_ — Heechul is referring to.  
  
Heechul’s far too drunk to catch Baekhyun’s change of mood as he mumbles, “Chanyeol. His name is Chanyeol.”  
  
Not ‘boy toy,’ not ‘sugar baby,’ ‘cherry lollipop,’ nor any of the other euphemisms people throw around. Just _Chanyeol._  
  
“That one.” Heechul shouts an encouragement as the women’s final score flashes on the screen.  
  
“He, uh,” the room is too quiet between the tracks, and Baekhyun wants to leave — escape this conversation before Chanyeol clouds his mind again. “He’s studying in America right now.”  
  
Heechul squints with judgement. “I thought I told you to hold on to him?”  
  
Baekhyun can’t do this. “I —”  
  
“Baekhyun,” Sooyoung collapses in his lap before he can finish. “Have I told you that I love you?” She slurs sweetly.  
  
She’s drunk, and means nothing of it other than admiration, but something about the words cuts through Baekhyun’s gut. Maybe it’s because he’s thinking of Chanyeol, and how he couldn’t say those same words — even when intoxicated, even with Chanyeol hovering over him, practically begging him to.  
  
He couldn’t even think them until Chanyeol was already ready to say goodbye.  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
  
There’s an email in Baekhyun’s work inbox from parkchanye@sva.com on Monday morning.  
  
Baekhyun’s hesitant to open it, unsure of what he’ll find once it loads. Once he clicks through, it’s a simple three lines of text, unintimidating in every way, yet they _are_.  
  
_Baekhyun hyung,  
  
There’ll be some photographs of mine at Gomok next week. You should go see them.  
  
\- Chanyeol_  
  
  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
  
Admittedly, Baekhyun hasn’t frequented Gomok as often in the three months Chanyeol’s been away. He still meets up with Jongdae and Joonmyun regularly, still goes out to eat with them at least once a week. Chanyeol’s surprise invitation though, is enough to get him back on the crowded subway to Jongno 3-ga during rush hour, lamenting the commute the entire way.  
  
Jongdae greets him with a smile when he walks through the doors, like he’d expected to see him even if Baekhyun didn’t give him a heads up. Jongdae doesn’t waste time on any further greetings, and instead gestures to the rear wall of the cafe — much like the second time Baekhyun had popped by to see Chanyeol.  
  
There’s no Chanyeol and his red hair at a corner table this time. There are, however, three new photographs on the back wall.  
  
It’s a triptych, Baekhyun realizes once he’s close enough; and each black and white shot is of him. It’s Baekhyun’s bedroom, him sitting up, topless in his own sheets. In the first shot, he’s looking directly into the lens, focused. It’s the expression he usually sports when he looks in the mirror, or poses for photographs.  
  
He remembers that morning, stirring in the sheets because Chanyeol woke him with the clicking of the shutter. It was one of Chanyeol’s old film cameras in the photographer’s hands. If Baekhyun leans in close, he can see the small crusts around his eyes, and the morning bedhead hairs that fly up everywhere. Baekhyun had glared at Chanyeol, telling Chanyeol to cut it out right as Chanyeol snapped another shot.  
  
In the second photograph, Baekhyun’s looking away from the camera, down into the sheets as he tries to hold back a smile. Baekhyun doesn’t remember ever looking at himself like that, with the kind of vulnerability he’s not used to exposing on his own face. He tries to remember what exactly Chanyeol had said to make him smile _like that_ , probably something cheesy about him being ‘cute’ or ‘a true sleeping beauty.’  
  
It’s the final shot, furthest to the right, that makes Baekhyun’s chest tighten. In it, he’s looking back at the camera. More accurately, he’s gazing at the man behind it. His expression is soft, a little annoyed, but gentle nonetheless. He’s looking at Chanyeol with nothing but affection, amusement, _appreciation_ , and maybe something more.  
  
Is that the way he looks at Chanyeol when no one’s watching?  
  
Baekhyun remembers that, eventually the teasing had gotten to be too much, and he’d ended up lunging at Chanyeol, tickling him to the best of his ability as Chanyeol continued to wind the film roll and take shots. He smiles to himself, remembering that Chanyeol had won the tickling battle — as he generally did — by grabbing his nape and kissing Baekhyun senseless.  
  
  
Despite the smile, his eyes tear up the longer he stares at the pictures. He’s not sure if he’s more happy to relive the memories, or sad because they’re just memories to him now. He needs to distract himself, so he leans in to read the caption below the photos.  
  
  
_I’m already yours.  
  
But you could be mine, too.  
  
Chanyeol Park, Film. 2016. _  
  
  
  
“Little brat. Send him to America, offer him a showing here of his new stuff and he sends old photos.” Jongdae laughs from behind Baekhyun.  
  
Words aren’t necessary when Baekhyun turns with a sad smile. In the next moment, Jongdae’s pulling him into his chest and running comforting fingers through Baekhyun’s hair.  
  
“You really look like shit in the mornings, you know.”  
  
  
  
  
Baekhyun leaves fifteen minutes later; but not before he drops a check on the counter for Jongdae to pick up. This time, the memo line is left blank.  
  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
  
  
“You haven’t brought around anyone new in awhile. Waiting for Chanyeol to get back?” Joonmyun questions over the rim of his coffee cup.  
  
They’ve met up closer to Baekhyun’s work this time, because Joonmyun had been in the neighborhood and Baekhyun doesn’t really want to see his sleepy face hanging on the wall while they chat.  
  
“No.” Baekhyun said he would wait, but Chanyeol asked him not to. That doesn’t mean he’s willing to look for anyone else, or to let go of Chanyeol. Joonmyun doesn’t know all those details though, and he doesn’t really want to get into them when there’s still so much up in the air.  
  
“Usually you’d have someone new by now. But I guess Chanyeol wasn’t one of your normal boy toys.”  
  
“What do you mean?” Baekhyun knows it’s true, but he wants to see Joonmyun’s side. Joonmyun’s just as insightful as Jongdae can be, even if he’s less blunt about it.  
  
“Come on, Baekhyun. Take Sehun for example, good looking young man. But he was a social climber, he used you the same way you used him. Chanyeol… he never cared about that kind of stuff with you. Hell, you certainly weren’t using him just to warm your sheets either.”  
  
“It was too fucked up, Joonmyun.” Baekhyun means it, remembering their last argument and everything Chanyeol had said. “He wanted things I couldn’t give him. Not with an expiration date. Neither of us were ready for how serious things got.”  
  
“Wasn’t it nice to wake up to someone, not having to worry about if they would still be there if you drifted back to sleep for a little bit, though?” Joonmyun’s voice trails off for a breath. He’s most likely imagining Jongdae as he talks, and it’s sweet. “Wasn’t it comforting having someone who knows that you can’t stand cupboards being left open, and knows how the silverware drawer should be organized?”  
  
Baekhyun had never taught Chanyeol about his silverware drawer — Chanyeol had figured it out on his own — and doesn’t mind open cupboards, but he gets it. Chanyeol knew which pillow Baekhyun favors, how he likes his eggs.  
  
“Sometimes, even people like you Baekhyun, meet someone who you want to let in. Who you don’t look at and try to figure out a use for them. They just… fit. There was a place for them all along, and you just didn’t know it yet.”  
  
“You’re too romantic for your own good, Joonmyun,” Baekhyun teases.  
  
“What can I say? I lucked out.” He smiles again to himself. “And, if I’m being completely honest, I think you did too.”  
  
“Doesn’t matter now, he’s already gone.”  
  
“Says who? I can’t tell if you’re being intentionally dense or not, but Chanyeol kind of told you everything with those three photographs. Even I know that.”  
  
Baekhyun’s had enough Chanyeol talk for one afternoon, so he leaves Joonmyun’s point hanging before he changes the subject.  
  
“So tell me about Luhan’s new project. Something about murals in Itaewon?”  
  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
  
**From: Jongdae  
** Opening on Saturday at Joonmyun’s Samcheong-dong gallery and you better be there.  
  
**To: Jongdae  
** Did you forget Saturday is my birthday? What about my present?  
  
**From: Jongdae  
** I have a present for you if you manage to get your butt out of the office and into Joonmyun’s gallery. Deal?  
  
**To: Jongdae  
** Fine.  
  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
  
Joonmyun’s real gallery in Samcheong-dong is bigger than Gomok, with the kind of sophistication that warrants a proper suit and tie on evenings like this. Baekhyun rises to the occasion, and not just because it’s his birthday and he wants to look good.  
  
The sign outside reads _Missing Pieces_ with a dozen or so artists names listed in alphabetical order below it. One particular name stands out immediately, Baekhyun’s heart drops into his stomach the same way it had when he’d seen the same name in his unopened emails.  
  
Jongdae hadn’t been kidding, it’s one hell of a birthday present. Baekhyun’s ready, at least that’s what he tells himself when he walks through the glass doors and makes a beeline for the open bar. With wine in his hand, the music and idle chatter fade into the background as he surveys the space.  
  
There’s no bright red patch of hair to be seen in the crowd, but there is a series of photographs in a small enclave that stands out just as distinctly to Baekhyun. Jongdae stands beside them, smiling knowingly at Baekhyun while he approaches, like he’s been waiting for this moment. Baekhyun has, too.  
  
The street scenes may be unfamiliar — the halal cart worker, a small waitress in a run down diner, and the commuters on the subway platform — but they’re all captured with a signature element of humanity that Baekhyun could recognize anywhere. It’s the stamp of Park Chanyeol, so strong and distinctive even in a foreign city with lights and colors that contrast in every way to Seoul.  
  
“You could have warned me, you know.” Baekhyun gestures to the pictures on the walls as if they stand in for the very real person they represent: the person who might be somewhere in the gallery, right now.  
  
“But where would the fun be in that?” Jongdae looks to the photographs on the wall. “At least there aren’t any shots of you half-naked this time.”  
  
“Is he… here?” Baekhyun allows himself to ask. Chanyeol could have sent the pictures, just like he did at Gomok. He never did give Baekhyun an official return date.  
  
Jongdae answers with a mirthful smile, tilting his chin in the direction over Baekhyun’s shoulder. Suddenly, Baekhyun is hyper aware of the sound of footsteps approaching, of a new presence behind him. Nerves go haywire in his body. Five months, and Chanyeol is back. Chanyeol’s back and no one told Baekhyun  
  
“I’ll leave you to it then.” Jongdae saunters away, a quiet “Happy Birthday,” falling from his lips before he’s gone.  
  
A deep breath to ground himself, and Baekhyun turns around. Chanyeol’s just as tall as he remembers, his bottom lip between his teeth exposing his nerves like always. His hair is brown now, a little longer, but combed back exactly the way Baekhyun had told him so many times that he likes it.  
  
“What do you think of the show?”  
  
“I’m a fan.” Baekhyun returns a shy smile, disbelief probably all too apparent in his eyes. It earns him a nervous smirk from Chanyeol. “I’ve actually been a fan of this artist’s work for a while now.”  
  
“Really?” Chanyeol’s eyes light up as he scans Baekhyun up and down. There’s months between them, so many gaps left to be filled in, but with Chanyeol in front of him, it almost feels like no time has passed at all.  
  
“Yup.” Baekhyun mirrors Chanyeol’s actions. Chanyeol’s wearing the suit Baekhyun bought him back in November; the collar already a little messed up. Baekhyun’s chest pings with the familiarity of this situation. “He’s been on my radar for a long time.”  
  
“How have you been, hyung?” Chanyeol breaks the moment, tentatively stepping a little closer to Baekhyun and dropping his voice even lower.  
  
_I’ve missed you,_ he wants to say.  
  
Instead what comes out is, “Alright, I guess.” Chanyeol’s within reach, and he wants to fix his collar out of habit, maybe adjust the brown hairs that have fallen out of place on his forehead. “We got a broadcasting award for our segment back in January.”  
  
“I saw.” Chanyeol beams. “I’ve been keeping up with the segment.”  
  
“Yeah?” Baekhyun’s flattered. He doesn’t know why he’s surprised that Chanyeol kept up with everything. Chanyeol is always curious, always wants to be in the loop.  
  
“Congratulations.”  
  
“I guess I owe you a congratulations, too. You’ve managed to get a showing in Joonmyun’s real gallery.” Baekhyun daringly reaches out to nudge Chanyeol’s shoulder, testing the water. “He must really like you.”  
  
“Thanks.” Chanyeol’s cheeks flush and it’s too familiar for Baekhyun to not smile up at him. He knows he looks too fond, because he _is_. “Personally, I think he’s a little biased, but I wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity.”  
  
“Nonsense, you’ve earned this. I’m sure New York was wonderful and eye opening?” There are walls full of pictures to show it, Baekhyun doesn’t need to ask. “Lots of new material?”  
  
“Definitely. But it was a little lonely shooting alone.” Chanyeol throws a pointed look to Baekhyun. His words are unsure, like one wrong step and he’ll send Baekhyun running in the opposite direction.  
  
“So, did anything besides your hair change while you were away?” Baekhyun’s not going anywhere, though. Maybe Chanyeol just needs a little pushing to get to the conversation they need to have.  
  
“Nope.” Chanyeol steps even closer, crowding Baekhyun who makes no move to retreat. “Everything else is just as it was when I left. At least on my end.”  
  
“And your heart?” Baekhyun sips his wine to hide the shake of his hands as he asks. “Any changes there?”  
  
“Nope.” Chanyeol’s big eyes look only at Baekhyun as he says the single syllable. Baekhyun can’t look away either as Chanyeol continues. “It’s still horribly hung up on this older guy. He’s a collector, you know.”  
  
“Former collector,” Baekhyun corrects with a smile that betrays the pounding of his heart.  
  
“Oh?” Chanyeol plays along. “Officially retired?”  
  
“You could say that.” Baekhyun laughs. “Do you still think we’re too fucked up?”  
  
“I —” Something far less playful, almost pained, crosses Chanyeol’s features. His mouth opening and closing a few times.  
  
“ _Chanyeol!_ ” Someone interrupts behind them, Chanyeol’s mouth slipping into a grimace as he shuts his eyes in momentary frustration.  
  
“Can we talk later?” Chanyeol leans in when his body is already angling towards the stranger. His voice is so low, so nice when he whispers into Baekhyun’s ear, “After the show?”  
  
“Yeah. I can wait.” Baekhyun nods. He’s not sure he’s ever meant those words more.  
  
  
  
  
Baekhyun takes up camp at the bar, where Jongdae makes a habit of popping by every fifteen minutes to keep him company before he’s off mingling again. He understands when Baekhyun shies away from a round of birthday drinks, knows that Baekhyun wants to have as clear a head as possible when the gallery finally clears out and he has all of Chanyeol’s attention.  
  
Baekhyun’s not like Chanyeol’s family who could meet him at the airport when he returned. Nor is he like Jongdae and Joonmyun who had professional reasons to be in touch these past few months. He can’t just walk up to Chanyeol in the middle of a conversation with Kim Taeyeon, kiss him and tell him he’d missed him all these months; that his offer still stands. Not here. So instead, he watches as Chanyeol mingles alone, no Joonmyun or Baekhyun at his side to guide him. He looks poised, confident.  
  
His gestures are still far too animated, laugh too loud. Baekhyun’s heart still stops in his chest when Chanyeol’s eyes trail to him over the shoulder of some stranger to smile at him. His gaze promises later, reassures Baekhyun that their conversation isn’t over yet.  
  
  
  
An hour and a half later, there’s a hand to Baekhyun’s shoulder. It doesn’t dip lower when Chanyeol quietly prompts, “Let’s get out of here, hyung?”  
  
The routine is the same as it’s always been; a silent walk to the taxi stand, Chanyeol climbing in first. Only this time, it’s Chanyeol who takes the liberty of guiding Baekhyun by the elbow the short walk, and it’s Chanyeol who rattles off Baekhyun’s address to the diver.  
  
“When did you get back?” They aren’t touching in the backseat, each on their own side; something unnamable hanging between them — words that need to be said before Baekhyun can run his hand along Chanyeol’s thigh again.  
  
“Wednesday.” Chanyeol searches Baekhyun’s face for any sign of a reaction; maybe a flash of hurt that he hadn’t sought Baekhyun out as soon as he landed. “Happy Birthday, by the way.”  
  
“Was the show opening today intentional?” Baekhyun asks. He doesn’t want to read too much into it, but it’s a funny coincidence.  
  
“That was all Jongdae. Joonmyun reached out about participating in the show, but it was Jongdae who set the date.”  
  
“Of course.” Jongdae, scheming, planning, but always with Baekhyun’s interests at heart. “And you called _me_ altruistic.”  
  
They share a quiet laugh before the sound of the city outside the cab's windows fills the silence between them.  
  
  
  
  
  
“I should have known it was you who bought those when Jongdae was so adamant about not telling me,” Are the first words out of Chanyeol’s mouth once Baekhyun turns on the living room light. “I can’t tell if you’re incredibly vain or incredibly flattered.”  
  
The portraits of Baekhyun lean against the bookshelf. He still hasn’t quite figured out what to do with them since Jongdae delivered them a week ago.  
  
“I couldn’t have the whole world seeing me looking a mess like that,” Baekhyun jokes.  
  
He’d wanted to keep them. At the time it didn’t matter if Chanyeol came back to him or not, he wanted to hold on to that feeling. Because Chanyeol’s in the shots just as much as he is. It’s _them._  
  
“I have the negatives of the film.” Chanyeol turns away from the portraits to smile playfully at Baekhyun. “I could mass produce them, plaster them all over the city…”  
  
Baekhyun narrows his eyes, taking a step closer. “You wouldn’t dare.”  
  
“Depends on how well you treat me.” Chanyeol shrugs, completely unafraid.  
  
The last time Chanyeol was in Baekhyun’s apartment, he didn’t bother to sit down on the couch — he stormed in with his coat, all his accusations, and broke Baekhyun’s heart while standing right where he had been moments before. Today, Chanyeol’s not wearing any jacket, and when Baekhyun’s glare fades into an almost giggle, he sits himself on the couch.  
  
“You don’t even want to _know_ the promises I had to make to Jongdae to get him to hang those up in Gomok…”  
  
Baekhyun approaches with tentative steps. He’s still processing it, Chanyeol back in his living room, smiling up at him from the couch.  
  
“Hopefully none of them involve sexual favors?” Baekhyun quips, half-serious, just to watch Chanyeol’s features curl in mock disgust.  
  
“Why’d you do it?” Baekhyun asks seconds later, once he’s seated beside Chanyeol. There’s still a space between them, but he’s not about to breach it first. “You could have shown any photos, why those?”  
  
Chanyeol’s eyes soften as he looks over to Baekhyun.  
  
“Because you asked me how I see you,” Chanyeol admits delicately, simply. “And even when I was thousands of miles away, you were what I thought about; that version of you that no one else gets to see. When you’d look at me all grumpy in the mornings, the way you whined when your morning alarm went off, how you’d smile at me every time I called you cute, and that ticklish spot on the back of your neck. ”  
  
Chanyeol’s lips tilt sideways as he remembers all the little details Baekhyun never knew he noticed. It tugs on Baekhyun’s heart, draws him closer.  
  
“But I asked you for space,” Chanyeol’s tone shifts, “It didn’t feel right to message you, to say I missed you like crazy — not after everything I’d accused you of the last time we saw each other. But I had to tell you somehow. I had to find some way to tell you that my offer still stood, and I hoped yours did, too.”  
  
Five months apart. In that time, Baekhyun’s been waiting — hanging in the interim on a vague promise that Chanyeol would come back and be _his_. With Chanyeol here, no ending hanging over their heads, he’s not afraid anymore. He’s been bottling the words inside of him for _months_ , not sharing them with anyone because everything was too indefinite.  
  
Now — with Chanyeol so open in front of him, vulnerable even after months apart — he can speak them without them being a means to hold Chanyeol back. He can tell Chanyeol what he feels; this time, to bring him close again.  
  
“I love you,” Baekhyun breathes out. He hasn’t said those words in years, not like this. But he needs Chanyeol to be sure, to know that there’s no one else in his heart. “You knew that already, right?”  
  
Chanyeol nods, and reaches for Baekhyun’s hand.  
  
“Before I left, that last day, I said so many horrible things to you. I was angry, and a little scared. I threatened my leaving like it was some kind of test… Because I wanted to see you react, see you tell me you actually cared.” Chanyeol says the words bitterly. “Instead I hurt you, bit words at you that you didn’t deserve.”  
  
_I hurt you, too_ , Baekhyun wants to add. Instead, he rubs his thumb against the back of Chanyeol’s palm, grips him tighter to stop his hand from shaking. He doesn’t want to re-live this; he’d much rather reach out and smooth the crease between Chanyeol’s eyebrows. But he knows they have to do this.  
  
“My mind was so mixed up then, I felt rejected, used. It took me a week after I got to New York to calm down and realize that it wasn't if you fought to keep me that would tell me you cared — Because you were right, I would have gotten on that plane no matter what.” Chanyeol pauses, giving himself a moment to breathe. His eyes are full of apologies. “It was the fact that you never tried to _stop_ me from leaving, from doing what I was supposed to do, that should have told me everything I wanted so desperately to hear you confirm.”  
  
“I didn’t want to be part of your decision,” Baekhyun finally admits. His eyes are a little foggy when Chanyeol’s hand reaches up to wipe along his cheek. “Joonmyun was right, SVA was a great opportunity, you needed to go. I… I couldn’t try to stop you. Even if I wanted to.”  
  
Chanyeol’s hand drops to Baekhyun’s shoulder, soothing him with familiarity. He understands, he isn’t angry about it anymore.  
  
“It might not have been the romantic ‘I want you to be my boyfriend and let you grope my ass in public the way Joonmyun does with Jongdae’ kind of love that motivated you...” Chanyeol chuckles at his own comparison, and the light returns to his eyes. “... But you had to love me a little bit to do that.”  
  
Chanyeol’s close enough now that Baekhyun can feel his exhales against his cheeks. He can inhale the scent of Chanyeol; and despite all the heavy words of Chanyeol’s confession, the weight in his chest is gone.  
  
“I did.” Baekhyun laughs. “I _do_.” He corrects in the next breath.  
  
That’s all it takes for Chanyeol to lean in and finally close the distance between them. It’s chaste, tentative because there’s still months between them and things they have to sort through. What matters now, though, is that Chanyeol is here, on Baekhyun’s couch, kissing him like he’s missed him.  
  
And Baekhyun’s missed him — _so much_ — too.  
  
“I know.” Chanyeol smiles as he pulls away seconds later. He doesn’t go far, though. His hand still resting on Baekhyun’s nape as he presses their foreheads together. “Now the only question is: do you love me in the taking care of me, _mentoring_ way, or in the my boyfriend who grabs my ass at my next gallery showing way?”  
  
“What imaginary ass are we talking about here? There’s nothing to grab,” Baekhyun teases, reaching under Chanyeol to demonstrate his point. Chanyeol pouts, but Baekhyun kisses it away before he has a chance to protest. “How about _you_ do the ass grabbing; and I’ll get the privilege of introducing you as my boyfriend?”  
  
Not ‘Joonmyun’s protégé,’ or his ‘boy toy,’ but his _boyfriend._ Baekhyun, too, can be Chanyeol’s boyfriend — not his ‘mentor’ nor his ‘sugar daddy.’ The word sounds perfect, and sticks in a way that none of the previous labels ever could.  
  
Chanyeol smiles, his hand sliding down Baekhyun’s side until it finds familiar purchase on his hip — where Baekhyun thinks it belongs.  
  
“I can accept those terms and conditions.”  
  
Baekhyun can’t fight the smile on his face. He feels light in a way he hasn’t in months, no arrangement, no pending departures. Just Chanyeol, his kisses, his _heart_.  
  
“You sure?”  
  
“Positive.” Chanyeol confirms it with kiss. This time, he licks along Baekhyun’s bottom lip with more hunger, tugs him so it’s Baekhyun lying below him against the cushions. He looks down at Baekhyun like he can still see right through him, with no attempt at concealing his relief, his _affection_.  
  
Chanyeol dips his lips lower to kiss along the expanse of his neck, and Baekhyun’s hands finally reach up to card through his hair. It’s still just as soft, Chanyeol still leans into his touch with a quiet moan of satisfaction. Every familiar touch, the relieved tears on his own cheeks that Chanyeol brushes away, are confirmation Baekhyun needs to know: that this time, they'll get it right, as equals.  
  
Chanyeol’s lips move to trail along his jaw; and if Baekhyun weren’t already breathless, Chanyeol’s next words would knock the air right out of him.  
  
_“I love you too, hyung. Let me take care of you?”_  
  


**Author's Note:**

>  _[1] Hanok_ is a form of traditional Korean housing. A _hanok villiage_ is an entire neighborhood of such houses.  
>  _[2]Goshiwon_ is a dorm-style, temporary housing option in South Korea, often popular with students studying for exams, or people in between homes.  
>  _[3] "고목에도 꽃은 핀다"_ is a Korean saying for "In an old tree, flowers blossom." I chose not to translate the 고목 (Gomok) part as the name of Joonmyun and Jongdae's cafe because it sounded much better than "old tree" to me.  
>  [4] All locations in this story are real, and the conservation/preservation argument over Ikseon-dong is very real. Jongno 3-ga is also known as a gay-friendly neighborhood.  
> [5] [Here](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLiVxIhGD5cgGz7NfMtUx667uken50b9is) is a playlist for the fic. Enjoy~ 
> 
> A/N: Thank you for reading (even if this turned out to be a pseudo-sugar daddy fic). Comments and upvotes always make me smile -- so please don't be shy ^^


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